^^giToC?  <L 


^i^L-«»iC 


_«PSi^c.<«iC 


<Sm5 


c<\<(^'>^^MX 


-'-q^^f 


..  c  '  i_  <SiGi^C^^_  <3Cls 


jT-^aa^ 


^ 


,^gc;iac<  cc^Sf  <i^^::^a^ 


<C'4C*::<£<r 


i^JDL< 

jEjc 

^^     Cl'C' 

3 

''  "  •r"^ 

«■ 

^r  ^c 

^^T 

^  c^<:€c 

*— "^ 

^^-    * 

^TC- 

.^<1<-(^C 

4sr  •  C'-. 

:  ^Ej^CvC 

^:<5 

^iC  'r  -< 

^g:o 

c€or>  ^^'< 

^u 

(«3g:   :<« 

:z«f<.- 

c^Ci^i---^*^-- 

<:< 

•C^I^.^'«!^'i'* 

^  gr<; 

.  X^ST'^t   iC-'< 

v^ET^ 


^:^:  -c^^s:^ 


-<i^m^^ 


c^<rc 


ccc  ^ 


C^v^-CC 


cc<^^<::C^^ 


/,.^:,,,  / 


MEMOIR 


LIFE   OF  HENRY  WARE,  Jr. 


T-MNTsn  rr  ^  .-.H^rmNc-HML 


:}/JFA.,'Kn  RY  .'SARTA.V 


MEMOIR 


OF    THE 


LIFE  OF  HENRY  WARE,  Jr 


BY    HIS    BROTHER, 


JOHN  WARE,  M.  D. 


IN    TWO     VOLUMES. 
VOIi.   I. 


NEW    EDITION. 


BOSTON: 
JAMES    MUNROE    AND    COMPANY. 

LONDON: 
CHAPMAN,    BROTHERS. 

1854. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  Year  1846,  by  Mary  L. 
Ware,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massa- 
chusetts. 


Stereotyped   by 

GKORGE    A.    CURTIS; 

NEW  ENGLAND  TYPE  AND  STEREOTYPE  FOUNDERY. 


TO    THE    MEMORY 


OF    THE    FATHER, 


WHOSE   EXAMPLE   AND   INSTKHCTIONS   CxtJIDED   THE   LIFE   AND   FORMED 
THE     CHARACTER 


OF    THE    SON, 


THIS   BOOK 


IS     REVERENTLY      INSCRIBED. 


PREFACE. 


This  work  was  undertaken  at  the  suggestion  of 
some  of  the  friends  of  my  late  brother,  who  were  of 
opinion  that  it  would  be  acceptable  to  the  public  and 
useful.  They  thought,  also,  that  I  was  a  suitable  per- 
son to  prepare  it.  In  some  respects,  so  far,  especially, 
as  a  knowledge  of,  and  ready  access  to,  the  requisite 
materials,  and  an  intimate  personal  knowledge,  are  con- 
cerned, r  perceived  that  this  was  so.  As  I  proceeded, 
however,  I  was  sensible,  on  the  other  hand,  of  some 
disadvantages  arising  from  the  same  circumstances. 
Moreover  I  have  found,  that  the  exclusive  character  of 
my  own  occupations,  for  many  years,  has  kept  me 
from  possessing  that  familiar  knowledge  of  his  exter- 
nal, which  I  have  had  of  his  personal  history.  On 
some  subjects,  therefore,  there  is  reason  to  fear,  that  the 
book  will  be  found  often  deficient  and  sometimes 
inaccurate.  For  such  faults,  I  have  only  to  plead  in 
palliation  the  constant  pressure  of  other,  duties,  which 


viii  PREFACE. 

has  made  it  impossible  to  command  the  leisure  for  so 
deliberate  an  inquiry  into  these  subjects  as  such  a  work 
demands. 

The  purpose  had  in  view,  and  the  plan  followed,  in 
this  Memoir,  will  be  obvious  on  its  perusal;  but  the 
reader  will  enter  upon  it  to  greater  advantage,  if  they 
are  suggested  to  him  in  advance.  The  purpose  has 
been  to  exhibit  its  subject,  at  all  times  of  his  life,  in  all 
the  varieties  of  his  character ;— not  merely  as  a  minister, 
a  professor,  a  man  of  the  public ;  but  also  as  a  son,  a 
brother,  a  husband,  a  father,  and  a  friend ;  —not  merely 
as  a  man  of  serious  thoughts,  of  solemn  occupations,  of 
weighty  purposes ;  but  in  all  his  other  moods,  cheerful, 
lively,  gay,  jocose,  and,  if  it  so  seem  to  any,  even 
trivial.  The  j^lctii  has  been  to  tell  the  story  of  his  life, 
and  illustrate  the  formation  and  developement  of  his 
character,  by  the  introduction  of  materials  which  will 
do  it  indirectly.  I  have  endeavored  to  say  nothing  in 
my  own  words,  which  could  be  said  in  those  of  another, 
or  which  could  be  inferred  from  any  thing  said  by  him- 
self A  very  free  use  has  therefore  been  made  of  the 
letters  and  papers  of  himself  and  others,  though  the 
amount  selected  bears  but  a  small  proportion  to  the 
whole  mass  from  which  the  selection  has  been  made. 

I  am  aware,  that  there  have  been,  of  late,  several 


PREFACE.  IX 

strong  expressions  of  opinion,  from  sources  entitled  to 
consideration,  against  such  a  use  of  materials  of  this 
description.  The  feeling,  which  dictated  these  expres- 
sions, does  not  seem  to  be  founded  in  justice.  As  the 
lives  and  characters  of  the  dead  furnish  us  some  of  the 
most  efficient  means  for  the  instruction  of  the  living, 
mankind  have  a  sort  of  right  to  the  use  of  whatever 
will  contribute  to  so  important  an  end, — so  far,  at  least, 
as  it  can  be  without  violating  the  feelings  or  rights  of 
the  living.  A  due  regard  for  this  consideration  has,  it 
is  hoped,  been  had  in  the  preparation  of  the  present 

work. 

J.  W. 

Boston,  December  lith,  1845. 


The  first  edition  of  this  work  seemed  to  many  per- 
sons to  be  printed  on  too  small  a  type  for  comfortable 
reading.  In  the  present,  a  larger  type  has,  for  this  rea- 
son, been  adopted.  There  is  no  other  change  except 
the  correction  of  a  few  verbal  inaccuracies,  and  the 
addition  of  two  or  three  letters  or  other  papers. 

March,  1846 


CONTENTS 

OF    THE    FIRST    VOLUME, 


CHAPTER  I. 
His  descent — Birth — Early  Religious  Impressions,  and  Predilec- 
tion for  his  Profession — Early  Habit  of  Composition — Anecdote 
—Removal  of  the  Family  to  Cambridge— Death  of  his  Mother 
— Her  Character 1 

CHAPTER    II. 
His  Early  Education,  at  Duxbury,  Cambridge,   and  Andover — 
Entrance  into  College  and  College  Life— Winter  at  Beverly  in 
Keeping  School. .26 

CHAPTER  III. 
Becomes  Assistant  in  the  Academy  at  Exeter,  N.  H. — His  Choice 
of  a  Profession — Correspondence  with  his  Father — Journal.       .    39 

CHAPTER  iV. 
Second  Year  at  Exeter — Continuation  of  Correspondence  with  his 
Father — Proposes  to  relinquish  his  Office — First  Appearance  in 
the  Pulpit. 60 

CHAPTER  V. 

Studies  Divinity  at  Cambridge  —  State  of  Education  there — He  is 
Approbated — Results  of  Self-Examination — First  Preaching — 
Ordained  Pastor  over  the  Second  Church  in  Boston.        ...    91 

CHAPTER   VI 
His  Views  of  Pastoral  Duty — Various  Labors — His  Marriage  and 
Place  of  Residence — Death  of  Mr.  Thomas  Prentiss — Sickness 
andDeathof  Mr.  John  E.  Abbot 109 

CHAPTER  VII. 
State  of  the  Religious  World  at  the  Commencement  of  Mr.  Ware's 
Ministry— Visit  to  the  South — Origin  of  "The  Christian  Disciple" 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

and  "The  Christian  Examiner" — He  becomes  its  Editor — For- 
mation of  a  Congregational  Church  in  New  York — Letter  of  Dr. 
Channing — Letters  to  Dr.  McLeod — Failure  of  his  Health — 
Convention  of  1820 — His  impressions  of  Mr.  Webster's  Oratory.  124 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
His  Occupations — Sickness  in  his  Family — Preaches  at  Amherst, 
N.  H.,  and  under  what  Circumstances  —  Formation  of  the  Asso- 
ciation for  Mutual  Religious  Improvement  —  Establishment  of 
Sunday  Evening  Services  for  the  Poor 146 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Religious  Revival  in  Boston — Letters — Sickness  and  Death  of  his 
Child  and  Wife  —  Disposal  of  his  Family 156 

CHAPTER  X. 

State  of  his  Church  and  Parish — Poem  on  the  Visit  of  Lafayette — 
Extemporaneous  Preaching — Various  Publications  —  Commen- 
tary on  the  Bible  —  American  Unitarian  Association  formed — 
Bimker-Hill  Monument  Celebration 177 

CHAPTER   XI. 

Failure  of  His  Health,  and  a  Journey  for  its  Restoration— Visits 
the  Interior  of  New  York — His  Account  of  an  Extraordinary 
Religious  Excitement  there  —  Letters — Visit  to  Niagara — Re- 
turns with  improved  Health •      .      .      .      .  193 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Formation  of  a  New  Society  in  New  York  —  Sermon  at  the  Dedi- 
cation of  its  Church  by  Dr.  Channing — Mr.  Ware  invited  to  be- 
come its  Pastor — He  declines — His  Reasons — His  Second  Mar- 
riage— Plan  for  a  New  Theological  School  —  Its  Failure  —  Lec- 
tures on  Palestine — Their  Object  and  Success 218 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Severe  Illness  in  the  Village  of  Ware  —  Removal  to  Worcester  and 
gradual  Recovery — Establishment  of  the  Professorship  of  Pulpit 
Eloquence  at  Cambridge  —  Journey  on  Horseback  through  Ver- 
mont, Canada,  and  New  Hampshire 233 


LIFE  OF  HENRY  ¥ARE,  Jr. 


CHAPTER    I. 

HIS  DESCENT — BIRTH — EARLY  RELIGIOUS  IMPRESSIONS,  AND  PREDI- 
LECTION FOR  HIS  PROFESSION — EARLY  HABIT  OF  COMPOSITION- 
ANECDOTE— REMOVAL  OF  THE  FAMILY  TO  CAMBRIDGE — DEATH  OF 
HIS    MOTHER— HER    CHARACTER. 

1794—1805.     2ET.  1—11. 

Henry  Ware,  Jr.,  was  born  at  Hingham,  in  Massa- 
chusetts, April  21st,  1794.  He  was  a  descendant,  in  the 
fifth  generation,  of  Robert  Ware,  who  came  over  from 
England  among  the  earlier  settlers  of  the  colony,  and 
fixed  himself  at  Dedham,  about  the  year  1644.  Near 
the  beginning  of  the  next  century,  Joseph  Ware,  a  grand- 
son of  Robert,  removed  to  the  neighboring  town  of  Sher- 
burne, and  there  became  the  father  of  a  large  family, 
many  of  whose  descendants  are  still  among  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  place.  One  of  his  sons,  John  Ware,  mar- 
ried into  a  family  at  Cambridge  of  the  name  of  Prentiss, 
and  Henry,  the  father  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  was 
the  youngest  but  one  of  his  ten  children.  John  Ware 
was  a  plain  country  farmer,  probably  not  of  the  highest 
class,  of  small  means,  whose  elder  sons  were  all  brought 
up  to  his  own  or  some  other  laborious  occupation.  Three 
of  them  served  in  the  Revolutionary  war.  Two  were 
in  the  battle  of  Bunker's  Hill,  one  of  them  a  lad  only 
fourteen  years  of  age.  A  third,  Joseph,  the  oldest  of 
the  number,  lost  an  arm  at  the  battle  of  White  Plains. 
1 


2  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

He  was  father  of  the  Hon.  Ashur  Ware,  District  Judge 
of  the  United  States  for  the  State  of  Maine.  He  hved 
always  on  the  old  family  place  at  Sherburne,  and,  not- 
withstanding his  mutilation,  continued  to  lead  the  active 
life  of  a  farmer.  He  was  highly  respected  in  the  com- 
munity in  which  he  resided,  for  his  strict  integrity, 
strong  good  sense,  and  excellent  judgment. 

Henry  was  born  April  1st,  1764.  It  happened  that 
an  eclipse  of  the  sun  took  place  on  the  day  of  his  birth. 
The  believers  in  signs  among  his  friends  prognosticated, 
from  this  coincidence  and  from  his  being  born  on  All- 
Fools  day,  that  he  would  be  deficient  in  intellect.  Not- 
withstanding this  prophecy,  however,  he  became  fond 
of  books  very  early ;  and,  as  he  was  of  too  slender 
a  constitution  when  young  to  labor  much  on  the  farm 
with  the  other  boys,  this  propensity  was  indulged.  His 
proficiency  was  such  as  to  excite  the  notice  of  the  min- 
ister of  the  town,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Brown,  who  suggested, 
or  at  least  encouraged,  the  idea  of  sending  him  to  col- 
lege. His  father  died  in  middle  life,  leaving  behind  him 
but  slender  means  for  the  education  or  even  mainte- 
nance of  his  family;  but  Henry,  having  a  strong  desire 
to  procure  a  public  education,  persevered  in  his  purpose, 
and  under  the  direction  of  his  pastor  and  friend,  for 
whose  kindness  he  always  felt  the  deepest  gratitude,  he 
prepared  himself  for  college  in  a  very  short  time,  and 
was  entered  at  Cambridge  in  1781,  in  his  eighteenth 
year.  His  elder  brothers,  who  were  settled  in  life,  con- 
tributed something  to  his  support,  and  his  very  narrow 
means  were  eked  out  by  the  emoluments  derived  from 
keeping  school  during  the  winter  months.  He  gradu- 
ated with  the  first  Pionors  of  his  class  in  1785.  He  was 
immediately  engaged  in  teaching  the  Public  Grammar 


JK.  3 

School  of  the  town  of  Cambridge,  at  the  same  time 
occupying  himself  in  the  study  of  Divinity ;  and  in  Octo- 
ber, 1787,  he  was  ordained  at  Hingham,  as  successor  to 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Gay,  one  of  the  distinguished  clergymen 
of  his  time. 

He  married,  in  1789,  Mary,  daughter  of  the  Rev. 
Jonas  Clarke,  minister  of  Lexington,  whose  wife  was 
the  granddaughter  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Hancock,  her 
husband's  predecessor  in  the  parish.  Mr.  Hancock 
^vas  undoubtedly  quite  a  remarkable  man,  and  was  long 
and  extensively  remembered.  He  was  distinguished  for 
shrewdness  and  good  sense ;  and,  being  withal  a  person 
of  a  very  imposing  presence,  acquired  great  ascendency, 
and  exercised  much  influence,  over  his  brethren  of  the 
clergy.  He  was  resorted  to,  from  the  confidence  reposed 
in  his  judgment,  for  counsel  on  important  occasions  in 
the  church,  and  his  opinion  always  had  great  weight. 
He  was  commonly  known  by  the  title  of  Bishop  Han- 
cock ;  and  this  appellation  is,  even  at  the  present  day, 
familiar  to  some  of  the  survivors  of  the  last  generation, 
who  can  recollect  its  use  in  their  early  years  among 
those  who  were  contemporaries  with  the  old  patriarch. 
One  son  of  the  Bishop,  Ebenezer,  a  young  man  of  great 
excellence  and  promise,  was  ordained  as  his  colleague 
in  the  ministry,  but  died  soon  after,  at  the  early  age  of 
twenty-eight,  in  1740;  another,  John,  was  the  minister 
of  Braintree,  and  the  father  of  John  Hancock,  President 
of  Congress  during  the  Revolution,  and  Governor  of 
Massachusetts ;  a  third,  Thomas,  was  an  eminent  and 
wealthy  Boston  merchant,  and  a  liberal  benefactor  of 
Harvard  College,  who,  dying  a  bachelor,  left  the  bulk 
of  his  great  fortune  to  his  nephew,  John,  whom  he  had 
adopted  during  his  lifetime.     A  daughter,  Lucy,  was 


4  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

married  to  the  Rev.  Nicholas  Bowes,  of  Bedford ;  and 
her  daughter,  Lucy  Bowes,  hecame  the  wife  of  Mr. 
Clarke,  her  grandfather's  successor  in  his  parish.  The 
elder  Hancock  died  in  1752,  aged  eighty-two,  after  a 
ministry  of  more  than  fifty  years. 

Mr.  Clarke  was  a  man  of  popular  manners,  of  a  kind 
and  sociable  disposition,  and  much  beloved.  His  house 
was  the  seat  of  a  very  extensive  hospitality,  and  was 
especially  a  place  of  resort  for  young  clergymen.  Four 
of  his  daughters  married  clergymen,  but  none  of  his 
sons  were  educated  at  college,  or  adopted  their  father's 
profession.  Mr.  Clarke  was  an  earnest  Whig,  and  took, 
as  far  as  his  calling  would  permit,  an  active  part  in  the 
politics  of  the  day.  When  the  inhabitants  of  Boston 
were  suffering  so  many  hardships  from  the  operation  of 
the  Boston  Port  Bill,  and  contributions  for  their  relief 
were  sent  in  from  the  neighboring  country,  he  directed 
that  his  annual  allowance  of  twenty  cords  of  wood 
should  be  sent  as  his  donation.  Gov.  Hancock,  being 
a  cousin  of  his  wife,  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  par- 
sonage, and  was  on  intimate  terms  with  the  family. 
There  he  spent  the  night  before  the  battle  of  Lexing- 
ton, in  company  with  his  partner  in  proscription,  Sam- 
uel Adams,  the  house  being  guarded  by  a  small  party 
of  militia.  At  three  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  nine- 
teenth of  April,  an  alarm  was  given,  and  information 
received  that  the  British  troops  were  on  their  march 
from  Boston.  Mr.  Clarke  immediately  took  precautions 
for  the  safety  of  his  guests,  and  had  them  conveyed  in 
Mr.  Hancock's  carriage,  under  the  charge  of  his  second 
son,  Jonas,  (afterwards  Judge  Clarke,  of  Kennebunk,) 
to  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones,  the  minister  of  a 
settlement    then    called    Woburn   Precinct,   now    the 


town  of  Burlington.  They  went  with  great  reluctance. 
When  the  troops  approached  the  meeting-house,  which 
was  but  a  short  distance  from  Mr.  Clarke's,  he  sent  his 
wife,  and  all  his  children  but  one,  to  a  remote  part  of 
the  town,  where  they  remained  through  the  day.  But 
just  as  they  were  going  from  the  yard,  the  firing  of  that 
morning— by  which  the  first  blood  of  the  war  of  the 
Revolution  was  shed— took  place ;  and  they  were 
startled  by  the  whistling  of  a  bullet  somewhere  near 
them,  passing,  as  was  supposed,  between  Mrs.  Clarke 
and  her  daughter  Mary,  afterward  Mrs.  Ware,  then  a 
girl  of  thirteen.  One  of  them  had  in  her  arms  an  infant 
child.  Mr.  Clarke,  with  his  daughter  Eliza,  of  between 
eleven  and  twelve  years  of  age,  remained  at  the  house, 
which  was  thronged  through  the  day  with  the  Ameri- 
can soldiers,  whom  they  served  with  cider,  bacon,  and 
brown  bread,  many  of  them  having  left  their  homes 
before  breakfast  and  travelled  several  miles  without 
refreshment.  For  want  of  sufficient  accommodations 
for  so  many,  their  guests  v/ere  seated  on  the  floor,  and 
helped  themselves  with  their  fingers.  About  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  having  exhausted  his  supply  of  provi- 
sions, Mr.  Clarke  left  his  house  and  joined  his  family. 
He  died  in  1805,  aged  seventy-five  years,  having  brought 
up  to  adult  age  six  sons  and  six  daughters,  on  a  salary 
of  eighty  pounds  in  money  and  twenty  cords  of  wood. 
His  ministry,  like  that  of  his  predecessor,  had  extended 
over  more  than  half  a  century. 

Of  ten  children  who  were  born  of  the  marriage  of 
Henry  Ware,  senior,  and  Mary  Clarke,  four  daughters 
died  in  infancy  ;  three  sons  and  three  daughters  surviv- 
ing to  the  middle  period  of  life.     Henry  Ware,  Jr.,  was 
1* 


%  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

the  fifth  child,  and  the  oldest  son.  In  beginning  an 
account  of  his  life,  we  may  observe,  that  the  interest 
which  attaches  to  the  early  years  of  the  subject  of  a 
biography  does  not  depend  upon  the  events  and  inci- 
dents of  those  years  themselves,  but  upon  the  compari- 
son which  we  may  be  enabled  to  institute  between  the 
circumstances  under  which  the  boy  grows  up,  and  the 
character  which  the  man  afterwards  exhibits.  The 
events  of  childhood  and  youth  are  in  themselves  com- 
paratively unimportant;  they  may,  indeed,  vary  but  little 
in  different  persons.  But  the  impressions  left  by  them 
on  the  mind  may  be  of  the  most  opposite  sort,  according 
to  the  nature  of  the  influences  under  which  this  period 
of  life  has  been  passed.  Nor  can  we  venture  to  predict 
with  anything  like  certainty,  from  a  knowledge  of  the 
boy,  what  the  man  is  likely  to  be.  A  marvellous  change 
often  takes  place  in  the  transition  from  youth  to  man- 
hood, which  could  never  have  been  anticipated  from 
any  of  the  obvious  indications  of  early  life.  Still  this 
change  may  have  been,  and,  perhaps,  very  generally  is, 
the  consequence  of  impressions,  which  were  then  made, 
but  which  at  the  time  appeared  to  be  entirely  unheeded 
and  unfelt.  The  seed  was  then  sown,  as  it  seemed,  in 
vain  ;  but,  though  it  did  not  germinate,  it  did  not  die ; 
and  at  some  future  period  it  quickens  and  comes  into 
life  and  activity  under  new  influences.  There  are  some 
men,  in  Avhom  the  character  of  the  child  passes  gradu- 
ally into,  and  blends  with,  that  of  the  man ;  the  same 
tendencies  are  folloAved  out,  the  same  qualities  are 
ripened, — the  man  is  a  continuation  of  the  boy.  There 
are  others,  in  whom  a  great  alteration  takes  place ;  the 
character  undergoes  a  great  apparent  change,  and  one 
for  which  it  seems  difficult  to  account ;  new  qualities 


JR. 


spring  up,  and  it  almost  appears  as  if  new  faculties  had 
been  developed ;— the  boy  and  the  man  are  opposite. 
Yet,  in  both  cases,  it  may  be  equally  true,  that  the  in- 
fluences and  impressions  of  early  life  have  decided  the 
ultimate  features  of  the  character,  though  their  result 
has  been  brought  about  so  slowly,  and  shown  itself 
after  so  long  an  interval,  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  to 
trace  the  connexion.  The  man  may  be  like  the  boy  or 
unlike  the  boy ;  but,  in  either  case,  it  is  the  influences 
acting  on  the  boy,  that  have  made  the  man  what  he  is. 
But,  in  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  there  was  no  such 
want  of  correspondence  between  the  promises  of  child- 
hood and  youth,  and  the  actual  character  of  mature  life. 
The  seed  did  not  lie  dormant,  but  quickened  as  it  fell ; 
the  summer  and  autumn  only  fulfilled,  or  more  than  ful- 
filled, the  promise  of  the  spring.  It  is  seldom  that  we 
see  so  distinctly,  in  the  man,  the  fruits  of  the  influences 
which  have  acted  on  the  boy.  His  character  seems  to 
have  been  in  a  regular  course  of  formation  from  the  very 
first ;  and  we  trace  in  him,  in  his  earliest  years,  the 
same  general  traits  which  distinguished  him  in  his  after 
life.  Hence  the  history  of  these  years  constitutes,  per- 
haps, the  most  important  part  of  his  biography.  Then 
impressions  were  made,  a  tendency  was  given,  and 
habits  of  thought,  feeling,  study,  and  action  were  formed, 
which  appear  to  have  decided  his  whole  future  course. 
Above  all,  at  this  period  he  seems  to  have  had  steadily 
in  contemplation  a  distinct  purpose  in  life ;  a  circum- 
stance, which  not  only  contributed  to  give  a  certain 
direction  to  the  cultivation  of  his  mind  at  the  time, 
but  had  an  important  agency  in  the  formation  of  those 
essential  qualities,  to  which  the  success  of  his  subse- 
quent course  is  to  be  attributed.     I  shall  endeavor, 


8  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

therefore,  as  far  as  my  own  recoUectiorij  or  the  mate- 
rials which  I  have  been  able  to  collect,  give  me  the 
means,  to  enter  into  a  somewhat  minute  accomit  of  his 
early  years,  the  circumstances  under  which  he  was 
educated,  and  under  which  his  character  was  formed. 

As  a  boy,  he  presented  very  much  the  same  aspect  as 
that  which  belonged  to  him  when  a  man.  He  was  then, 
as  he  was  always  afterwards,  very  pale,  though  not  of 
an  unhealthy  look.  He  was  tender,  and  suffered  from 
several  attacks  of  severe  illness ;  but  generally  his  health 
was  good,  and  he  was  not  regarded  as  a  sickly  child. 
He  was  sober  and  thoughtful  both  in  coimtenance  and 
disposition ;  peaceable  and  quiet  in  his  amusements,  but 
not  withdrawing  himself  from  the  plays  or  the  com- 
panions proper  to  his  age.  Yet  there  was  then,  as 
there  was  through  life,  something  of  bodily  inactivity, 
an  indolence  of  disposition,  a  want  of  physical  vigor 
and  sprightliness.  He  was  docile  and  obedient,  faith- 
ful in  his  studies  and  other  duties,  but  still  not  forward, 
nor  of  rapid  progress,  as  a  student. 

It  is  impossible  to  designate  the  period  at  which  reli- 
gious impressions  were  first  made  upon  his  mind.  It 
would  be  difficult,  indeed,  to  look  back  upon  any  mo- 
ment at  which  he  was  destitute  of  them.  He  had  the 
happiness  to  be  brought  up  under  the  guidance  of  pa- 
rents, with  whom  religion  was  not  so  much  a  thing  of 
times  and  seasons,  as  it  was  an  element  of  their  daily 
life  and  conversation.  It  was,  therefore,  presented  to 
his  mind  in  its  most  attractive  form,  constantly  kept  in 
view,  held  up  as  the  most  important  concern  in  life,  but 
divested  of  that  air  of  formality  and  sadness,  which  so 
often  makes  it  repulsive  to  children.  Instruction  on  this 
topic  was  constant,  but  not  burdensome.     Family  wor- 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    Jlt^  9 

ship  and  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures  were  made  an 
indispensable  part  of  the  duty  of  the  day,  but  not  pro- 
tracted so  as  to  be  tedious  to  the  young  ;  whilst  private 
devotion  was  so  inculcated,  as  to  make  its  omission  felt 
as  an  act  of  ingratitude  to  the  Creator.  Every  occasion 
of  trial,  sickness,  or  death,  afforded  an  opportunity  for 
gentle,  but  distinct  admonitions,  intended  to  impress  on 
the  young  mind  the  uncertainty  and  dangers  of  life,  the 
certainty  of  death,  and  the  reality  of  eternity  and  judg- 
ment. The  Sabbath  was  to  be  regarded  as  holy  time, 
a  day  by  itself,  essentially  different  from  the  other  days 
of  the  week  in  its  object  and  employments ;  not  as  a 
day  on  which  man  was  to  be  more  rehgious  than  on 
other  days,  but  on  which  religion  was  to  become  more 
peculiarly  the  subject  of  meditation  and  study.  Still  it 
was  not  made  gloomy  by  tasks  or  restraints  so  severe, 
as  to  associate  it  with  the  idea  of  privation  and  austerity. 
It  was  suffered  to  be  a  day  of  cheerfulness,  but  yet  of 
moderate  restraint  upon  the  buoyancy  and  playfulness 
of  childhood. 

When  still  very  young.  Henry  manifested  a  predilec- 
tion for  the  profession  which  he  afterwards  chose.  This 
became  the  permanent  bias  of  his  mind  at  a  much  earlier 
period  than  is  usual  among  children.  It  is,  indeed,  not 
at  all  remarkable,  that  the  son  of  a  clergyman  should 
entertain  a  fancy  for  the  calling  of  his  father.  The 
same  thing  happens  with  regard  to  every  occupation. 
It  existed  in  other  members  of  the  family,  as  well  as  in 
him.  With  all  of  them  it  was  a  favorite  amusement  to 
imitate  the  services  of  the  Sabbath,  even  to  their  father's 
gestures,  tone,  and  manner ;  and  the  different  children 
officiated  in  turn,  as  each  could  collect  an  audience. 
There  was  nothing  peculiar  in  this,  for  probably  the 


10 


JR. 


children  of  most  preachers  do  the  same  thmg.  But  with 
Henry  there  was  something  more  than  this.  What  with 
others  is  a  transient  amusement,  in  him  indicated,  or  at 
least  contributed  to  give,  a  permanent  tendency  to  his 
mind.  The  office  of  a  clergyman  became  that  on  which 
his  eyes  were  turned  from  bo^^hood.  It  might  have 
been,  at  first,  a  childish  fancy,  but  it  grew  into  a  settled 
purpose.  The  play  was  forgotten,  but  the  preference 
with  which  it  was  comiected,  or  which  it  had  produced, 
grew  with  his  growth  and  strengthened  with  his  strength. 
From  that  time  forward  he  kept  it  before  his  mind  as 
a  distinct  object  of  pursuit,  far  more  constantly  than  any 
serious  purpose  is  commonly  entertained  in  childhood. 
Whenever  the  subject  of  their  future  employment  was 
matter  of  discussion  in  the  family  circle  of  which  he 
formed  one,  as  it  usually  is  in  such  little  communities, 
he  was  always  of  the  same  mind :  his  purpose  always 
v/as  to  be  a  minister ;  and,  as  far  as  children  are  capa- 
ble of  entertaining  distinct  vieAVS  concerning  anythmg 
of  which  they  know  so  little,  his  sisters  and  brothers 
also  regarded  this  as  his  peculiar  and  appropriate  desti- 
nation. I  doubt,  indeed,  Avhether  the  idea  of  a  difierent 
one  ever  presented  itself  seriously  or  for  any  length  of 
time,  from  the  days  when  he  preached  a  juvenile  sermon 
of  his  own  composition  from  a  cradle  turned  on  end 
as  a  pulpit,  to  that  in  which  he  actually  assumed  the 
office  of  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  and  made  his  appear- 
ance m  the  sacred  desk. 

There  is  another  circumstance  in  his  childhood  which 
is  worthy  of  being  recorded,  as  having  probably  had 
much  influence  in  training  his  mind,  and  qualifying  him 
for  the  place  which  he  afterAvard  filled.  By  some  ac- 
cident he  was  led  very  early  to  attempt,  and  gradually 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  11 

to  form,  the  habit  of  composition.  Many  children  make 
trials  of  this  sort,  but  there  are  few  who  persevere  so  as 
to  render  it  easy  to  them,  or  who  continue  it  after  the 
first  impulse  is  over  and  it  ceases  to  have  the  charm  of 
novelty.  But  with  him  it  was  not  so  ;  he  continued  to 
derive  pleasure  from  the  exercise  ;  he  became  more  and 
more  engaged  in  it,  till  it  grew  at  length  to  be  a  fixed 
habit.  He  began  as  early  as  the  year  1802,  when  he 
wrote  some  reflections  on  the  death  of  a  sister,  expressive 
of  the  feelings  excited  in  his  mind  by  that  event.  This 
was  followed  at  mtervals  by  other  efibrts,  and,  after  the 
age  of  nine  or  ten,  these  became  more  and  more  frequent. 
They  were  of  various  kinds.  Sermons,  history,  biog- 
raphy, epics,  and  other  poems,  were  all  projected  or 
begun,  though  seldom  finished ;  but  the  predominatmg 
tendency  undoubtedly  was  to  the  writing  of  verses  ;  and, 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  pieces,  those  which  remain 
of  his  earlier  compositions  are  poetical. 

To  this  early  practice  of  expressing  his  thoughts  on 
paper,  and  especiahy  to  the  habit  thus  acquired  of  over- 
coming the  difficulties  of  metrical  composition,  may  be 
attributed  very  much  that  readiness  in  the  use  of  the 
pen,  both  in  prose  and  verse,  for  which  he  was  certainly 
remarkable.  Few  persons  write  with  so  great  facility. 
Writing,  which  to  most  men  is  a  task,  and  to  some  even 
'  a  painful  one,  was  to  him  a  positive  pleasure.  In  the 
same  way,  also,  he  acquired  a  power  of  arranging  and 
methodizing  his  thoughts  on  any  subject  with  great 
quickness,  as  well  as  of  clothing  them  rapidly  with 
words.  The  influence  which  early  efforts  at  versifica- 
tion may  have  in  enabling  a  writer  to  acquire  ease  and 
readiness  of  expression,  and  perhaps  still  more  in  impart- 
ing something  of  attractiveness  and  beauty  to  his  style, 


12  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

does  not  seem  to  be  always  sufficiently  appreciated. 
It  is  not  difficult  to  see  how  the  discipline,  which  is 
necessary  in  order  to  make  the  language  which  carries 
our  thoughts  move  gracefully  to  the  music  of  poetical 
measure,  will  so  cultivate  the  ear  and  the  powers  of 
expression,  as  to  give  ease,  beauty,  and  harmony  to  the 
style  of  the  same  writer,  when  freed  from  the  regular 
movement  of  verse.  Neither  can  it  be  of  less  advantage 
to  clearness  of  thinking,  and  consequently  to  perspicuity 
in  expressing  thoughts,  that  a  writer  should  have  been 
accustomed  to  commit  them  to  paper.  The  surest  pre- 
ventive of  a  habit  of  vague  and  indeffiiite  thinking,  is 
the  practice  in  early  life  of  writing  out  our  thoughts  as 
soon  as  we  begin  to  have  them.  We  thus  learn  to  think 
methodically  and  clearly  from  the  beginning. 

This  habit  continued  with  him  through  life.  He 
thought,  read,  and  almost  lived  with  the  pen  in  his 
hand,  ready  to  fix  and  give  form  and  feature  to  the  ideas 
which  arose  in  his  mind,  or  were  suggested  by  the  books 
he  read;  or  to  note  such  passages  in  his  reading  as 
might  serve  him  afterward  for  contemplation  or  other 
use.  The  amount  which  he  thus  committed  to  paper 
was  very  great.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that  most  of  it  was 
done  in  that  desultory,  irregular  manner  in  which  he 
was  apt  to  indulge,  on  loose  pieces  of  paper,  on  the  backs 
of  notes,  etc.,  and  not  in  regular  volmnes.  Hence  this 
practice  was  of  far  less  value  to  him,  except  as  an  exer- 
cise and  a  disciphne,  than  it  might  otherwise  have  been  ; 
and  what  he  thus  reduced  to  writing  is  of  comparatively 
little  value  to  others. 

His  early  compositions  cannot  be  considered  as  re- 
markable for  anything  except  as  giving  evidence  of 
the  strong  feelings  which  he  entertained  on  religious 


LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,  JR.  13 

subjects;  though  there  may  be  somewhat  more  com- 
mand of  language  than  is  usual  at  his  age.  The  motive 
for  inserting  from  time  to  time  some  of  these  juvenile 
exercises  is  sufficiently  obvious.  They  are  not  pre- 
sented as  specimens  of  a  precocious  or  even  a  particu- 
larly promising  youth ;  they  are  mere  elements  of  the 
history  of  his  progress.  If  it  be  worth  while  to  trace 
the  formation  of  his  mind  and  character  at  all,  it  is 
worth  while  to  examine  it  in  its  earliest  developments, 
whatever  they  may  have  been.  I  have  alluded  to  the 
following  production,  as  the  first  which  he  is  known  to 
have  written.  It  still  exists  in  his  own  boyish  hand- 
writing, as  it  was  copied  by  him  a  few  years  afterward. 
It  was  composed  when  he  was  eight  years  and  a  half 
old. 

"  HENRY   WARE    ON   THE    DEATH   OF   MARTHA. 

"  Oh  Martha !  you  have  gone  through  your  short  pilgrimage, 
your  life  of  troubles  and  afflictions.  You  have  got  to  the 
tomb  before  us.  You  have  gone  through  what  we  upon  earth 
have  got  to  go  through.  Your  life  was  precious,  and  your 
character  was  pleasing.  We  all  mourn  for  you,  but  we  need 
not  mourn,  for  you  are  going  to  a  better  world. 

"  Oh  Martha !  thou  lovely  child !  you  are  now  gone  from 
this  world,  never  to  return." 

There  remain  also,  carefully  copied  into  a  little  book, 
birth-day  reflections  for  the  years  1805-6-7,  when  he 
was  respectively  eleven,  twelve,  and  thirteen  years  of 
age.  They  exhibit  the  strong  and  continued  religious 
feelings  which  had  been  excited  ha  him. 
2 


14 


"BIRTH-DAY  REFLECTIONS  FOR  THE  YEARS  1805,  1806,  1807. 

"  April  21,  1805. 

"  As  it  has  pleased  the  Lord  God  Almighty  to  spare  my 
life  another  year,  I  would  now  make  some  observation  upon  it. 

"  May  I  the  following  year  be  impressed  with  serious 
thoughts  and  resolutions.  Remembering  my  Creator  in  the 
days  of  my  youth, — considering  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  in 
preserving  me  the  past  year  from  danger,  and  preserving  me  to 
the  present  time.  It  is  owing  to  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  that 
I  am  not  consumed ;  blessed  be  his  name  for  all  his  goodness 
toward  me. 

"  By  the  late  melancholy  event"^  that  has  happened  in  the 
family,  may  I  be  led  to  make  serious  reflections  considering 
that  Life  is  short !  That  I  must  shortly  (the  Lord  only  knows 
when)  quit  this  world  of  trouble  and  affliction,  for  a  world 
where  there  is  no  weeping,  where  saints  live  together  in  peace, 
and  enjoy  everlasting  life,  and  that  if  I  wish  to  live  in  heaven 
above,  I  must  live  a  righteous  and  holy  life  here  below ;  but 
that  if  I  live  in  sin,  not  believing  in  the  word  of  God,  I  shall 
be  cast  into  hell  where  none  but  devils  dwell. 

"  May  I  obey  my  father  and  mother,  according  to  the  fifth 
commandment :  '  Honor  thy  Father  and  Mother,'  &c. ;  may  I 
be  kind  to  my  brothers  and  sisters,  and  obliging  to  my  play- 
mates ;  and  increase  in  all  useful  knowledge. 

"  And  may  the  Lord  God  Almighty  strengthen  me  in  all  my 
resolutions." 

"  April  21,  1806. 

"  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  God  Almighty  for  all  his 
goodness  towards  me  ;  he  has  brought  me  in  perfect  health  and 
safety  to  the  twelfth  anniversary  of  my  birth ;  has  carried  me 
through  all  the  dangers  to  which  I  have  been  exposed;  has 
kept  me  in  the  land  of  the  living,  while  multitudes  are 
numbered  with  the  dead;   and  has  preserved  me  in  perfect 

*  Death  of  my  sister  Martha  Ann. 


JR.  15 

health,  when  some  of  my  friends  and  companions  have  been 
languishing  on  beds  of  sickness.  I  have  had  sufficient  meat 
and  drink  while  others  have  had  none. 

"  '  While  some  poor  wretches  scarce  can  tell 
Where  they  may  lay  their  head, 
I  have  a  home  wherein  to  dwell, 
And  rest  upon  my  bed.' 

"How  shall  I  repay  this  kindness  of  the  Lord?  What 
shall  I  render  to  the  Lord  for  all  his  goodness  toward  me  ? 
'  Words  are  too  feeble  to  express  the  feelings  which  ought  to 
take  possession  of  my  heart.'  '  Bless  God !  O  my  soul,  and 
forget  not  all  his  benefits.' 

^  "  While  I  am  thus  thankful  for  myself,  I  should  not  be 
unmindful  of  my  friends.  My  father  has  been  continued  to  see 
my  twelfth  birth-day,  and  his  forty-third  year.  God  grant 
that  he  may  live  to  see  my  next.  My  mother— alas  !  she  has 
been  snatched  away  by  the  relentless  jaws  of  death  !  But  why 
should  I  lament  her  loss  ?  She  is  doubtless  happier  than  she 
could  be  in  this  world.  A  year  ago  to-day  she  pronounced  a 
blessing  on  me  for  the  last  time!  My  brothers  and  sisters 
have  all  been  continued  alive  another  year,  and  I  humbly  pray 
God  to  spare  them  another  year." 

"  This  was  left  unfinished." 

"April  21,  1807. 
"The  all-protecting  power  of  God  has  been  exercised 
towards  me  the  past  year.  I  have  been  preserved  in  life  and 
health,  and  from  all  dangers  to  which  I  have  been  exposed.  I 
am  now  brought  to  the  thirteenth  anniversary  of  my  birth.  I 
am  still  continued  in  the  land  of  the  living,  while  multitudes 
have  been  dying  around  me. 

"  '  Not  more  than  others  I  deserve, 
Yet  God  hath  given  me  more  ; 
For  I  have  food,  while  others  starve, 
Or  beg  from  door  to  door. ' 


16  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

"  How  can  I  express  my  gratitude  to  the  Lord  for  all  his 
goodnesses  towards  me  ?  How  shall  I  reward  them  ?  They 
are  more  in  number  than  I  can  count.  I  should  thank  the 
Lord  that  I  was  born  and  educated  in  a  Christian  land  ;  that  I 
have  the  holy  Scriptures  in  a  language  that  I  can  understand, 
*  which  are  able  to  make  me  wise  unto  salvation.' 

"  '  Lord,  I  ascribe  it  to  thy  grace, 
And  not  to  chance  as  others  do, 
That  I  was  born  of  Christian  race. 
And  not  a  heathen  or  a  Jew.' 

"  '  The  praises  of  my  tongue, 
I '11 -offer  to  the  Lord, 
That  I  was  taught  and  learnt  so  young 
To  read  his  holy  word.'  " 

There  would  seem  to  have  been  something  in  his 
character,  even  when  very  young,  which  inspired  con- 
fidence and  gave  ground  for  reliance  both  on  his  discre- 
tion and  on  his  courage.  When  not  yet  six  years  old, 
as  his  father  recollected,  he  was  entrusted  with  the 
important  office  of  riding  a  horse  to  mill.  The  distance 
was  about  half  a  mile ;  the  corn  was  thrown  over  the 
horse's  back  in  a  long  bag,  upon  which  the  boy  sat; 
and,  after  he  had  waited  till  it  was  ground,  the  meal 
was  brought  home  in  the  same  way.  On  these  errands 
he  never  met  with  any  accident :  but  on  another  occasion 
he  was  less  fortunate.  Being  sent  with  several  com- 
missions to  a  considerable  distance  in  the  town,  the  horse 
which  he  rode  became  frightened  and  unmanageable,  and 
finally  ran  away  with  him.  His  race  home  through 
the  streets  was  not  unlike  that  of  John  Gilpin  ;  for,  being 
burdened  with  several  parcels,  he  distributed  them  one 
by  one  along  the  road,  being  obliged  to  part  company 
with  them  in  order  to  keep  his  seat,  and  at  length  lost 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  17 

his  hat.  The  horse  and  his  rider  finally  reached  home 
together,  at  full  speed,  and  in  safety ;  but  just  before 
turning  into  the  yard,  they  passed  underneath  a  ladder 
which  rested  against  a  tree,  and  Henry,  in  order  to  avoid 
striking  his  head  against  it,  slipped  off  to  the  ground 
unhurt.  This  adventure,  I  am  quite  confident,  he 
attempted  to  commemorate  in  verse  after  the  manner  of 
Cowper.  No  remains  of  such  a  composition,  however, 
exist,  and  it  is  probable  he  found  the  subject  somewhat 
too  difiicult  to  grapple  with. 

When  he  was  eleven  years  old,  a  change  occurred  in 
the  situation  of  the  family,  which  had  a  most  important 
influence  upon  his  prospects  in  life.  In  the  winter  of 
1805,  his  father  was  chosen  to  succeed  Dr.  Tappan  as 
Professor  of  Divinity  in  Harvard  College ;  and,  having 
accepted  the  ofiice,  he  removed  to  Cambridge  in  the  spring 
of  the  same  year.  This  election  very  much  divided  the 
community,  and  was  sharply  contested  in  the  board  of 
Overseers,  on  account  of  the  theological  opinions  of  the 
candidate.  It  was,  however,  at  last  confirmed  by  them. 
This  was  a  prominent  event  in  the  religious  history  of 
the  day;  and  it  was,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  one  of  the 
earliest  occasions,  if  not  the  earliest,  on  which  the  dispo- 
sition was  manifested  to  draw  a  line  of  division  between 
those  portions  of  the  religious  community,  which  have 
since  become  so  widely  separated  from  each  other. 

My  father  had  been  settled  at  Hingham  originally  on 
a  salary  of  only  four  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  which 
was  gradually  raised  to  seven  hundred.  But  even  this 
he  had  found  to  be  far  from  adequate  to  the  support  of 
a  very  large  family,  and  he  had  therefore  increased  his 
income  by  the  common  expedient  of  taking  boys  into  his 
house  to  board  and  instruct.  By  his  appointment  at 
2* 


18  LIFE   OF  HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

Cambridge  he  was  at  once  removed  from  very  straitened 
circumstances  to  a  condition  of  comparative  comfort, 
and  Avas  enabled  to  provide  for  his  children  a  much 
better  education  than  they  could  otherwise  have  hoped 
to  obtain. 

This  change  in  the  condition  of  the  family  was  fol- 
lowed speedily  by  one  of  those  bereavements,  which  are  so 
common  that  they  leave  but  little  impression  beyond  the 
immediate  circle  in  which  they  take  place,  and  which 
are  yet  there  of  so  overwhelming  an  importance.  Mrs. 
Ware,  the  mother  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  had  for 
many  years  suffered  from  very  feeble  health.  She  had 
been  ill  for  some  months,  yet  not  so  as  to  excite  great 
apprehension ;  but  soon  after  her  removal  to  Cambridge 
she  became  rapidly  worse,  and  died  July  13th,  1805,  in 
the  forty-fourth  year  of  her  age.  No  human  being  could 
owe  more  to  a  parent,  than  Henry,  as  well  as  all  the 
other  children  of  his  family,  owed  to  that  father  who 
still  survived.  I  trust  that  it  will  be  made  to  appear  in 
the  course  of  these  pages,  imperfectly  no  doubt,  how  a 
part  at  least  of  this  debt  of  gratitude  was  incurred.  But 
of  that  other  parent,  upon  whom  so  much  of  the  early 
education  of  a  family  depends,  her  children,  unhappily, 
can  recollect  nothing,  except  those  kind  and  tender 
offices  which  maternal  love  knows  so  well  how  to  per- 
form during  the  helpless  days  of  infancy  and  childhood. 
The  influence  which  a  mother  is  capable  of  having  upon 
the  character  of  children,  is  duly  estimated.  Many 
men,  eminent  for  their  piety  and  usefulness,  have  attrib- 
uted their  religious  character  and  course  of  life  to  the 
impressions  received  from  a  mother's  teachings  or  a 
mother's  prayers,  which  were  sooner  or  later  effectual. 
But  of  the  character  of  her  who  had  the  charge  of 


JR.  19 

Henry's  early  years,  and  communicated  the  first  impulses 
to  religion  and  virtue,  there  are  few  who  can  now  speak. 
Her  contemporaries  are  all  gone,  and  indeed  none  are 
left  who  knew  her,  except  such  as  were  of  an  age  too 
immature  to  appreciate  her  character.  The  only  remain- 
ing memorials  are  a  few  letters  and  other  papers,  chiefly 
written  during  sickness  and  afliiction.  They  exhibit, 
above  all  things  else,  a  well-regulated  mind,  feeling 
deeply,  but  enduring  with  cheerfulness  and  tranquillity ; 
a  pervading  religious  spirit,  a  constant  reference  to  the 
love  of  God  and  to  the  kindness  of  his  providence,  and 
a  high  sense  of  the  duty  of  submitting  with  patience 
and  fortitude,  and  without  repining,  to  the  divine  will. 
They  exhibit  precisely  such  a  character  as  seems  fitted 
to  reproduce,  by  its  direct  and  indirect  maternal  influ- 
ence, the  same  qualities  in  a  child  of  a  docile  and  gentle 
nature ;  to  sow  the  seeds  which  in  her  child  actually 
grew  and  ripened  into  so  abundant  a  harvest. 

At  the  time  when  her  sickness  became  alarming, 
Henry,  with  one  of  his  brothers,  was  at  school  in  Dux- 
bury.  A  month  before  her  death,  she  wrote  to  them  as 
follows : 

"  Menotomy,^^  Sunday,  June  9,  1805. 
"  My  dear  Boys, 

"  You  will  see  by  the  date  that  I  am  at  your  uncle  Fisk's, 
and  it  rains  so  hard  I  cannot  have  the  pleasure  of  going  to 
meeting  with  your  sisters.  I  think  I  cannot  now  better  employ 
my  time  than  in  saying  a  few  words  to  my  dear,  my  very 
dear,  absent  boys.  You  undoubtedly  wish  to  know  how  I  have 
been  since  we  parted,  and  I  have  the  comfort  of  telling  you  I 
am  better.  I  hope  you  will  have  been  writing  to  me  to-day, 
as  I  desired  when  you  left  me,  unless  it  should  interfere  with 

*  Now  West  Cambridge. 


20  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAREj    JR. 

the  employments  Mr.  A11}ti  assigns  you  for  Sundays.  I  wish 
you  to  tell  him  that  I  wish  each  of  you  to  write  me  a  few  lines 
every  Sunday,  if  agreeable  to  him.  I  trust,  dear  Henry  and 
John,  that  you  will  continue  to  behave  well,  and  perform  all 
your  duties  constantly  and  with  pleasure,  particularly  your 
religious  duties.  As  I  hope  you  will  recollect  what  I  have 
often  said  to  you  on  the  subject,  so  I  shall  only  now  say,  that 
you  must  not  suffer  this  separation  from  your  parents,  your 
brother  and  sisters,  to  divert  your  thoughts  from  the  greatest 
and  first  duty  of  your  hfe, — your  duty  to  God.  Remember 
that  he  is  everywhere  present,  and  that  his  eye  always  beholds 
your  steps,  and  keeps  you  from  falling  into  dangers." 

A  few  days  afterward,  my  father  fiinished  the  sheet 
with  the  folio  whig  words : 

"  Your  mother  is  not  so  well  since  she  wrote  this  letter,  and 
is  indeed  much  more  unwell  than  when  you  left  Cambridge. 
I  beg  you  to  keep  this  letter  carefully,  when  you  have  read  it, 
and  not  only  read  it,  but  attend  most  faithfully  to  the  wishes 
and  directions  of  a  mother  to  whom  you  are  more  indebted 
than  it  is  possible  for  you  now  to  understand." 

This  direction  seems  to  have  heen  dictated  by  appre- 
hensions which  were  only  too  soon  realized.  We  were 
shortly  smiimoned  home  to  receive  her  dying  blessing. 
I  add  to  this  brief  account  an  extract  from  another  of 
her  letters,  written  to  one  of  her  sisters  in  the  spring 
preceding  her  death,  on  the  loss  of  an  infant,  a  few 
months  old,  the  fourth  child  with  which  she  had  been 
called  to  part.  1  insert  it  simply  because  it  indicates 
very  strongly  in  her,  a  state  of  feeling  with  regard  to  the 
divine  government,  which  was  always  a  predominant 
one  in  the  mmd  of  her  son, — a  feeling  of  perfect  and 
imquestioning   reliance  on   the  wisdom,  justice,   and 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  21 

benevolence  of  God,  and  of  submission  without  murmur, 
and  even  with  cheerfuhiess,  to  the  doings  of  his  provi- 
dence. 

"  I  know  these  light  afflictions  do  not  produce  in  me  those 
fruits,  which  we  are  told  afflictions  and  trials  are  intended  to 
produce  on  the  hearts  and  lives  of  those  visited  with  them.  I 
think  it  is  our  undoubted  duty  to  yield  our  souls  to  the  stroke 
with  perfect  submission,  and  look  up  with  the  most  reverential 
awe  to  the  hand  which  inflicts  it,  yet  with  the  most  affectionate 
and  perfect  belief,  that  we  are  smitten  in  kindness  and  with 
the  views  and  feehngs  of  a  parent  who  never  fails  to  remember 
mercy,  and  that,  in  order  to  our  being  ready  for  a  place 
assigned  us  hereafter,  we  must  be  trained  and  disciplined  by 
methods  best  adapted  to  produce  the  effect.  And  who  is  to  be 
the  judge  of  the  best  means  but  He  who  holds  all  hearts  in 
his  hand,  sees  all  their  secret  movements,  and  knows  what 
will  reform  the  heart  and  life,  and  bring  us  to  a  proper  sense 
of  his  government  and  of  our  dependence  on  his  sovereign  dis- 
posal for  every  blessing  we  enjoy,  and  every  evil  (as  we  say) 
we  suffer ;  though,  so  far  from  being  real  evils,  they  may  be 
the  truest  blessings  we  receive  from  the  hand  of  our  Maker. 
If  indulgence  and  kind  and  gentle  treatment  of  our  children  do 
not  form  their  manners  and  habits  to  what  we  mark  out  as 
suitable  for  them,  we  are  obliged  to  adopt  severity,  we  feel  it 
necessary  to  inflict  punishments  and  withhold  rewards,  and 
withdraw  for  a  while  those  caresses  and  smiles,  which  consti- 
tute so  great  a  part  of  the  enjoyment  and  happiness  of  children. 
And  never  do  we  feel  our  affections  so  strong,  or  our  anxiety 
for  them  so  great,  as  whilst  we  see  them  suffering  under  this 
kind  of  correction,  which  we  intend  shall  bring  about  a  refor- 
mation, and  make  them  more  ready  to  submit  themselves 
without  obstinacy  or  reluctance  to  our  authority, —'knowing  it 
to  be  the  only  means  to  establish  that  harmony  between  us, 
which  is  to  produce  their  happiness  and  secure  to  ourselves 
proper  regard  and  respect." 


22  .  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

This  letter  was  left  unfinished,  and  the  train  of  reflec- 
tion never  carried  out ;  but  who  can  doubt  how  much  a 
daily  life  and  teaching  m  this  spirit,  in  the  mother,  must 
have  done  towards  laying  the  foundation  for  a  similar 
temper  of  mind  in  the  child  ? 

On  the  day  of  her  funeral,  our  father  gathered  his 
children  together  into  the  room  where  she  lay,  and, 
when  they  were  by  themselves,  surrounding  her  coffin, 
himself  calm  and  tranquil,  spoke  to  them  of  the  mother 
they  had  lost ;  of  what  she  had  done  and  suffered  for 
them ;  of  her  example  and  her  instructions ;  the  influ- 
ence this  event  should  have  upon  their  lives,  and  above 
all  in  making  them  feel  the  uncertainty  of  this  life,  and 
the  duty  of  preparing  for  another.  The  impression 
made  by  this  scene  was  of  the  most  solemn  and  perma- 
nent kind ;  for,  at  the  distance  of  forty  years,  it  comes 
back  to  the  mind  with  much  of  the  distinctness  of  a 
recent  event.  We  find  in  many  of  Henry's  productions, 
at  different  periods  of  his  life,  passages  evidently  sug- 
gested by  his  recollections  of  his  mother  and  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  her  death.  He  made  it  the  subject  of  a 
distinct  poem  of  considerable  length,  first  written  the 
same  year,  but  enlarged  and  corrected  afterwards ;  and 
he  alludes  to  it  also  in  a  later  one,  in  which  many  of  the 
events  of  his  own  life  are  introduced.  I  subjoin  a  few 
of  the  passages  here  referred  to,  as  illustrations  of  the 
state  of  his  feelings  and  of  the  progress  and  formation 
of  his  character. 

FROM    "lines    on    THE    DEATH    OF    MY    MOTHER,"    WRITTEN    IN    THE 
AUTUMN    OF    1805, 


"  Yet  many  years  I  thought  I  should  have  trod 
This  stage  with  her,  she  pointing  to  my  God; 


JR.  23 


Directing  all  my  steps  in  virtue's  ways, 
And  tuning  my  young  heart  to  sing  his  praise. 
She  would  have  cheered  my  younger  days  of  life, 
And  led  me  harmless  on  from  worldly  strife. 
And  when  her  years  a  numerous  train  had  run, 
And  she  declined  with  life's  declining  sun, 
When  trembling,  furrowed  age  came  tottering  on, 
I  should  repay  her  Idndness  as  a  son, 
Support  her  arm,  her  sorrowing  toils  assuage. 
And  lead  her  down  the  hill  of  feeble  age. 

"  O  may  I  live  like  her,  and  like  her  die  ; 
Living,  to  God's  commands  my  soul  apply ; 
Blameless  and  virtuous  be  in  all  men's  sight. 
And  try  to  prove  myself  to  God  aright ; 
Dying,  to  his  just  will  my  soul  resign, 
And  count  the  triumphs  of  the  righteous  mine. 
Mother,  the  last  commands  from  thee  received, 
(When  almost  at  the  goal  of  life  arrived,) 
And  all  which  when  alive  thou  didst  impart, 
Be  ever  written  on  my  iaithful  heart. 
Those  precepts  ever  be  my  guide,  my  friend. 
My  comforter,  till  life's  drear  journey  end. 
If  ever  from  my  heart  those  words  be  lost, 
As  sand  upon  the  foaming  ocean  tossed  ; 
If  e'er  from  virtue's  path,  the  perfect  way. 
In  which  thou  taught'st  me,  I  shall  go  astray, 
O !  may  thy  sainted  shade  my  ways  reprove, 
With  all  the  kindness  of  thy  former  love." 

FROM    "my    dream    OF    LIFE,"    AN    UNFINISHED    POEM. 

"  How  dear  is  every  room  beneath  that  roof! 
There  we  assembled  at  the  cheerful  meal. 
And  asked  Heaven's  blessing  on  a  band  of  love. 
There  the  gay  circle  on  a  winter's  eve 
Gathered  about  the  lavish  blaze,  and  pressed 
Within  the  chimney's  ample  range,  to  hear 
The  tales  of  wonder  childhood  loves  to  hear. 


24  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

And  age  delights  to  tell.     There  stood  my  bed ; 

There  I  lay  waiting  for  a  mother's  kiss, 

And  soft  good-night ;  then  breathless  sought  to  catch 

Her  last  faint  footstep  as  she  slow  retired  ; 

Then  drew  the  blanket  on  my  face  and  slept. 

Time  in  its  lengthened  flight  has  wrought  such  change, 

That  hardly  could  I  recognize  those  walls ; 

But  that  sweet  evening  kiss,  I  feel  it  now, 

I  hear  that  soft  good-night,  that  parting  step 

Still  faintly  fall  upon  my  waiting  ear. 

The  past  comes  thick  around  me  ;  faded  shapes, 

But  beautiful,  of  all  that  once  have  been, 

And  are  no  more.     I  sit  beside  the  hearth, 

And  weep  at  scenes  that  once  were  only  joy. 

"  O  !  what  is  tender  like  a  mother's  love, 
And  what  can  pay  its  loss  ?     To  her  I  looked 
To  cheer  and  guide  me  in  the  fearful  way 
That  leads  through  toil  and  peril  into  life  ; 
And  trusted  then,  when  strength  and  wealth  were  mine, 
To  rock  the  cradle  of  her  fading  age, 
As  she  had  soothed  the  infancy  of  mine. 
But  Heaven  refused  the  boon.     There  is  a  grief 
Severe  with  double  anguish  ;  when  the  heart 
Sinks  burdened  with  a  present  woe,  and  waits 
For  darker  evils  hastening  in  its  train  ; — 
Such  grief  was  ours."  .... 

"  What  darkness  follow^ed  then ! 
It  settled  down  upon  the  present  scene 
In  thick  dismay,  and  on  the  future  cast 
An  ominous  shade,  involving  earth  and  life 
And  hope.     The  sacred  light  of  home  was  dimmed  : 
The  tender  smile,  the  voice  of  patient  love, 
The  anxious  counsel,  the  directing  eye. 
Cheered  the  sad  pathway  of  my  youth  no  more. 
The  shadow  settled  on  my  heart.     The  worid 
Had  other  lights,  but  none  to  fill  that  void  ; 
And  friends,  but  none  that  wore  a  mother's  heart.'* 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  25 

In  ^'  Jotham  Anderson''^  are  many  passages  relating 
to  the  early  life  of  this  imaginary  personage,  evidently 
suggested  by  his  own  recollections  and  experience.  In 
this  work  he  speaks  of  his  mother  thus : 

"Were  all  mothers  like  mine,  how  greatly  would  the 
obedience  of  the  young  Christian's  pilgrimage  be  facihtated 
and  its  peace  ensured  !  I  love  to  dwell  on  the  memory  of  that 
honored  woman.  My  earliest  recollection  of  her  is  in  the  act 
of  teaching  me  to  pray,  when  she  every  evening  took  me  on 
her  knees,  and,  clasping  my  little  hands,  made  me  repeat  after 
her  my  childish  petitions.  Methinks  I  still  see  the  beautiful 
expression  of  her  maternal  eye,  and  feel  the  kiss,  full  of  affec- 
tion and  piety,  with  which  she  closed  the  service.  At  such 
times  she  would  explain  to  me  the  purposes  of  prayer,  and 
teach  me  to  love  the  good  Being,  who  gave  me  father  and 
mother,  and  made  me  happy.  It  was  her  practice,  also,  to 
seize  the  moments  when  my  young  heart  was  overjfiowing  with 
cheerfulness  and  good-will,  to  remind  me  of  the  Father  above, 
and  direct  my  gratitude  to  him." 

.3 


CHAPTER    II. 

HIS  EARLY  EDUCATION,  AT  DUXBURY,  CAMBRIDGE,  AND  ANDOVER  — 
ENTRANCE  INTO  COLLEGE  AND  COLLEGE  LIFE  — WINTER  AT  BEV- 
ERLY   IN    KEEPING    SCHOOL. 

1805-1812.     ^T.  11-18. 

Of  his  early  education  I  recollect  but  little.  He  was 
taught  partly  at  home,  and  partly  in  the  private  and 
public  schools  of  his  native  town.  In  the  course  of  the 
years  1804  and  1805,  he  spent  considerable  time  in  the 
family,  and  under  the  tuition,  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Allyn, 
of  Duxbury.  Dr.  Allyn  was  a  classmate  and  intimate 
friend  of  his  father,  and  was  held  by  him  in  very  high 
regard.  He  was  a  man  remarkable,  among  the  clergy- 
men of  the  day,  for  his  many  eccentricities  of  manners 
and  habits,  but  not  less  so  for  his  strong  good  sense,  a 
quaint  and  original  humor,  and  unalloyed  benevolence 
and  kindness  of  heart.  Here,  it  is  believed,  Henry 
began  his  preparation  for  college. 

After  the  College  Commencement  of  1805,  Henry, 
witli  his  brothers,  was  placed  under  the  tuition  of  their 
cousin,  Mr.  Ashur  Ware,  a  graduate  of  the  preceding 
year,  who  became  at  the  same  time  a  member  of  his 
father's  family.  He  remained  under  his  care  till  the 
spring  of  1807,  when,  on  the  election  of  Mr.  Ware  to  a 
Tutorship,  Mr.  Samuel  Merrill,  of  the  class  of  1807, 
took  his  place.     In  September  of  the  same  year,  he  was 


LIFE   OF   HENRY  WARE,    JR.  27 

sent  to  Phillips  Academy,  in  Andover,  of  which  Mr. 
Mark  Newman  was  then  Preceptor ;  and  here  he  con- 
tinued till  his  admission  into  the  Freshman  class  at 
Cambridge,  in  September,  1808. 

At  Andover,  he  boarded  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Isaac 
Chandler,  a  very  respectable  and  pious  farmer,  at  the 
distance  of  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  Academy, 
in  company  with  a  number  of  other  boys  of  the  same 
age.  This  was  his  first  initiation  into  promiscuous 
society  of  those  of  his  own  age,  at  a  public  school,  away 
from  the  influences  of  parents  and  home;  and  here, 
probably,  he  was  exposed  for  the  first  time  to  the  tempta- 
tions to  impurity  of  thought,  language,  and  conduct, 
from  which  so  very  few  escape  in  those  perilous  days 
of  our  life.  In  him,  happily,  any  such  taint  was  slight 
and  transient.  It  seemed  barely  to  have  tarnished  for 
the  moment  the  fair  surface  of  his  mind,  and  to  have 
left  no  stain  behind  it.  He  was  much  aided  in  his  escape 
from  the  dangers  of  his  age  and  situation  by  the  contin- 
uance, in  some  degree,  of  the  same  parental  guidance 
which  had  already  done  so  much  to  give  him  a  right 
tendency.  It  Avas  the  custom  of  his  father  to  keep  up 
as  frequent  a  communication  with  his  children,  when 
they  were  absent  from  home,  as  the  pressure  of  other 
duties  would  permit;  and  his  letters,  though  not  con- 
sisting of  labored  and  regular  admonitions,  seldom  failed 
to  contain  some  hints  or  short  expositions  with  regard 
to  modes  and  objects  of  study,  the  cultivation  of  good 
habits,  or  attention  to  moral  and  religious  duties,  Avhich 
probably  had  the  more  eflect  from  their  incidental  char- 
acter, and  this  very  absence  of  formality.  The  follow- 
ing are  extracts  from  his  letters  to  Henry  while  at 
Andover ;  those  which  called  them  forth,  or  which  were 
written  in  reply  to  them,  having  been  lost. 


28  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE, 

"  Sept.  26,  1S07. 

"  I  hope  you  are  laying  up  knowledge  now  as  fast  as  you 
can.  Let  me  advise  you,  particularly,  to  make  great  use  of 
your  memory,  and  make  great  exertion  to  strengthen  it.  No 
faculty  we  have  is  more  improvable ;  and  no  one  is  more  apt 
to  be  neglected.  It  will  be  well  to  copy  the  choicest  passages 
of  the  classics  into  your  blank  book ;  but  it  will  be  still  better 
to  imprint  them  indelibly  in  your  memory. 

"  Your  handwriting  I  wish  you  to  improve  in.  I  am  glad 
you  have  the  opportunity  of  instruction,  and  hope  you  will  be 
most  diligent  in  the  hours  assigned  to  it,  to  acquire  at  least  a 
decent,  if  not  an  elegant  use  of  the  pen.  You  are  now  at  the 
best  age  for  attaining  that  accomplishment.  I  hope  you  will 
not  undervalue  it,  and  that  you  will  give  me  specimens  of  your 
imnrovement  in  your  letters." 

One  of  the  subjects  touched  upon  in  this  letter,  the 
improvableness  of  the  memory,  with  the  great  impor- 
tance of  attention  to  it  as  a  part  of  education,  was  a 
point  upon  which  his  father  frequently  insisted  in  his 
letters  and  on  other  occasions.  He  was  led  to  do  this 
by  what  he  regarded  as  a  mistake  which  he  had  made 
in  his  own  case,  from  an  erroneous  early  impression, 
that  this  faculty  is  not  to  be  improved  by  cultivation, 
but  is  a  gift  bestowed  by  nature  on  some,  and  denied 
to  others. 

"  March  S,  1S08. 

"  I  was  gratified  with  your  letter,  as  a  mark  of  your  atten- 
tion, as  an  evidence  of  your  improvement,  as  an  assurance  of 
your  happiness,  and  as  giving  me  a  pleasant  account  of  j^our 
progress  the  preceding  week.  I  this  moment  hear  of  an 
opportunity  of  sending  your  Huntingford,  and  shall  hope  to 
receive  as  good  an  account  of  succeeding  weeks,  as  you  gave 
me  of  the  first I  am  very  glad  to  have  you  send 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  29 

for  Huntingford.  I  hope  you  will  exercise  yourself  in  it  as 
much  as  you  can,  besides  what  you  have  occasion  to  do  as  an 
exercise  in  the  Academy.  Not  that  I  wish  to  press  your 
studies  beyond  your  ability  and  health.  You  must  allow 
yourself  a  proper  proportion  of  exercise,  but  be  careful  to  make 
some  good  use  of  all  your  fragments  of  time,  which  are  not 
devoted  to  your  exercises,  nor  necessary  for  relaxation.  It  is 
your  use  of  fragments  of  time  which  are  usually  lost,  that  is 
to  make  you  a  scholar.  I  hope,  by  the  end  of  the  term,  you 
will  have  a  good  account  to  give  me  of  other  gains,  beside 
those  of  your  Greek  Testament  on  the  Sabbath." 

"  June  23,  ISOS. 
.  .  .  .  "  Let  not  your  plan  of  coming 
home  distract  your  attention  from  the  exercises  of  the  Academy. 
Give  your  whole  attention  to  your  studies  till  the  hour  of 
relaxation,  and  then  relax  entirely.  Habituate  yourself  to 
undivided  attention  when  you  do  attend,  and  when  you  un- 
bend, do  it  entirely.  Never  let  the  thought  of  amusement 
break  in  upon  your  studies,  nor  the  thought  of  your  studies 
mar  your  enjoyment." 

The  four  years  of  Henry's  college  life  were  passed  in 
his  father's  family,  who  then  lived  in  the  old  Sewall 
house,  lately  taken  down,  which  stood  nearly  opposite 
the  head  of  Holyoke  Street.  Of  this  period,  I  find  few 
memorials.  Living  at  home,  and  having  hut  little  taste 
for  promiscuous  company,  he  did  not  mix  much  with 
college  society,  and  probably  made  fewer  college  inti- 
macies than  most  young  men  who  receive  their  education 
within  the  walls  of  a  University.  He  was  scrupulously 
attentive  to  his  duties  and  exercises  ;  a  faithful  but  not 
a  very  hard  student,  and  maintained  a  respectable  rank 
in  his  class.  He  did  not  appear  to  aim  at  a  very  high 
standing  as  a  scholar,  and  this  principally,  as  I  appre- 
3* 


30 


JR. 


hend,  because  he  had  no  conception  that  his  abihties 
were  such  as  to  place  it  within  his  reach.  I  doubt  if  it 
ever  entered  his  mind,  that,  even  if  he  were  disposed, 
he  could  have  contended  successfully  for  the  higher 
honors  of  his  class ;  he  did  not  dream  that  such  success 
was  in  his  power,  even  had  it  been  an  object  of  desire. 
Had  he  believed  it  to  be  so,  he  would  probably  have 
both  desired  and  sought  it,  and  thus  have  been  a  much 
harder  student.  But  he  acquired  knowledge  easily. 
A  moderate  amount  of  labor  enabled  him  to  appear  as 
well  in  his  recitations  as  he  wished,  as  well  as  he  sup- 
posed it  possible  that  he  could,  and  he  consequently 
devoted  much  leisure  time  to  reading  and  to  studies  of 
a  general  character. 

At  this  period  of  his  life,  inded,  eminence,  high  repu- 
tation, or  great  distinction  in  any  way,  does  not  seem 
to  have  entered  into  his  anticipations.  No  one  probably, 
who  knew  him  at  this  time,  would  have  supposed  him 
capable  of  a  career  so  successful  as  that  which  awaited 
him;  no  one  would  have  been  more  surprised  than 
himself,  could  it  have  been  predicted.  This  trait  was 
strikingly  characteristic  of  him  through  life ;  the  success 
he  attained  was  always  greater  than  he  expected,  or 
even  dared  to  hope;  it  came  upon  him  by  surprise. 
I  do  not  mean  that  he  was  without  ambition ;  that  he 
did  not  seek  and  value  reputation ;  that  he  did  not  enjoy 
applause.  The  love  of  praise,  of  popularity,  was  in  him 
a  strong  natural  feeling,  as  he  was  fully  sensible,  and 
one  against  whose  undue  influence  he  felt  it  his  duty 
carefully  to  guard.  But  he  did  not  very  highly  estimate 
his  power  of  doing  that  which  would  enable  him  to 
gratify  this  feeling.  His  ambition  was  not  up  to  his 
ability.     He  would  have  been  perfectly  satisfied  and 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  31 

contented  with  a  much  lower  rank,  both  in  College  and 
in  life,  than  that  to  which  he  attained. 

His  rank  as  a  scholar  will  be  indicated  in  some  degree 
to  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  principles  on  which 
they  were  at  that  time  distributed,  by  the  College  honors 
which  he  received.  In  his  Junior  year,  he  took  part  in 
a  Latin  Dialogue,  at  one  of  the  usual  public  exhibitions. 
In  his  Senior  year  he  gave  a  Latin  Oration  at  Exhibition, 
and  at  the  Commencement  in  1812,  when  he  graduated, 
he  delivered  a  poem,  the  subject  of  which  was  ''  The 
Pursuit  of  Fame."  This  was  received  with  a  good  deal 
of  applause.  He  was  a  member  of  all  the  College  Soci- 
eties, for  admission  into  which  scholarship  was  a  neces- 
sary condition ;  and  in  their  literary  exercises,  as  he  did 
also  in  his  College  themes,  he  frequently  indulged  him- 
self in  his  propensity  for  writing  in  verse.  He  delivered 
a  poem  before  one  of  these  societies,  and  the  annual 
discourse  before  an  association  which  existed  among 
the  undergraduates  for  mutual  religious  improvement. 

Beside  thus  stating  my  own  recollections  of  my 
brother's  College  life  and  character,  I  have  the  satisfac- 
tion of  being  able  to  introduce  the  following  extracts  of 
letters  to  me  from  two  of  his  classmates,  Charles  G. 
Loring  and  Peleg  Sprague,  relating  to  the  same  subject. 
Mr.  Loring  writes  thus  : 

"  We  were  not,  properly  speaking,  intimate  in  College ;  for 
we  were  both  diligent  students,  and  he  resided,  as  you  know, 
at  home,  and  very  seldom  mingled  in  our  amusements,  except- 
ing as  a  member  of  societies  devoted  to  mental  improvement. 
I  felt  towards  him,  however,  very  early,  a  profound  respect, 
and  a  constantly  growing  personal  attachment.  His  excellent 
sense,  perfect  purity  and  benevolence,  always  shining  clearly 
through  his  quiet,  retiring,  and  somewhat  exclusive,  though 


32  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,  JR. 

never  unkind,  manners,  produced  in  me  a  gratifying  conscious- 
ness of  elevation  in  companionship  with  him,  and  led  me  to 
seek  his  society  as  a  privilege. 

"  His  recitations,  though  not  brilliant,  were  always  accurate 
and  entirely  unambitious.  I  do  not  remember  ever  being 
impressed  with  the  thought  that  he  aimed  to  excel  others; 
while  his  industry  and  devotion  to  study,  and  punctual  attend- 
ance upon  all  College  exercises,  showed  forcibly  his  high 
sense  of  duty  to  himself,  and  of  the  privileges  with  which  we 
w^ere  favored;  and,  although  they  procured  for  him  rank, 
never  seemed  directed  to  that  end. 

"  I  cannot  recall  any  one  whose  career  at  Cambridge  was 
so  perfectly  typical  of  his  future  life.  The  same  gravity, 
gentleness,  firmness,  and  kindness  of  demeanor;  the  same 
elevated  sense  of  duty ;  the  same  earnest,  unpretending  piety ; 
the  same  entire  self-devotion,  which  so  eminently  distinguished 
him  among  the  best  and  greatest  of  men  in  his  mature  years, 
were  characteristic  of  him  there." 

Judge  Sprague  says : 

"  While  at  College,  as  he  was  the  son  of  a  professor,  and 
did  not  live  within  the  walls,  his  classmates  had  not  the  grati- 
fication of  seeing  him  so  much  as  they  Avished.  He  rarely 
joined  in  their  amusements,  never  in  those  of  the  gayer  kind. 
His  conduct  and  demeanor  were  always  irreproachable,  and 
such  even  then,  as  w^ould  have  adorned  the  profession  for 
which  he  was  destined;  and  yet  so  free  from  austerity  and 
reserve,  so  full  of  kindness  and  sympathy,  that  he  was  esteemed 
and  beloved  by  all.  I  verily  believe,  that  not  one  of  his  class- 
mates, at  any  time  during  his  whole  college  life,  felt  towards 
him  other  than  emotions  of  friendship." 

In  the  winter  of  1810  —  11,  he  availed  himself  of  the 
permissionj  which  was  frequently  given  to  undergrad- 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WAREj    JR.  33 

uateSj  to  teach  a  school  m  the  country  during  the  whiter 
months.  The  vacation  then  extended  to  seven  weeks, 
occupying  the  greater  part  of  the  cold  season ;  and  sev- 
eral weeks  of  the  term  were  allowed  by  the  Government, 
in  order  to  make  out  the  amount  of  time  required  for  an 
engagement  of  this  sort.  This  privilege  was  of  great 
advantage  to  the  poorer  class  of  students,  in  enabling 
them  to  procure  the  means  of  education ;  but  it  was 
resorted  to  in  my  brother's  case,  as  much  for  the  benefit 
which  might  be  derived  from  this  kind  of  discipline. 
A  school  was  engaged  for  him  in  the  town  of  Beverly, 
and  thither  he  went  in  the  latter  part  of  December. 
The  following  letter  will  convey  the  best  idea  of  his 
experience  in  this  new  situation, — one  certainly  of  no 
small  responsibility,  and  of  considerable  trial  to  a  lad  of 
his  age ;  for  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  at  this  time  he 
wanted  four  months  of  having  completed  his  seventeenth 
year.  This  letter,  besides  its  connexion  with  him,  may 
serve  to  illustrate  some  of  the  customs  and  the  state  of 
the  schools  at  that  time. 

to  his  father 

"  Beverly,  Dec.  2S,  1810. 
"  My  dear  Father, 

"  I  believe  that  I  promised*  to  write  to  you  as  soon  as  I 
arrived  here,  but  I  have  been  so  engaged  that  I  have  not  had 
time.  Whether  this  letter  will  reach  you  before  Tuesday  or 
not,  I  cannot  tell ;  but  I  hope  you  will  receive  it  to-morrow. 
That  I  am  very  much  engaged  you  can  easily  conceive,  when 
I  tell  you  that  I  have  in  my  school  sixty-five  children,  men  and 
women  together.  There  are  four  boys  older  and  larger  than 
myself,  and,  from  what  I  can  hear,  there  are  yet  to  be  more 
of  the  same  genus.     Girls  there  are  many,  as  much  as  1-5, 17, 


34  LIFE    OF  ilENRY   "WARE,    JR. 

or  IS  years  of  age ;  but  it  luckily  happens  that  they  are  dis- 
posed to  be  peaceable  and  orderly.  Only  six  study  Arithme- 
tic ; — three  of  these  are  just  entering  on  multiplication,— i\YO 
are  in  reduction,  — iind  one  in  the  rule  of  three.  Almost  all 
the  girls  (of  whom  are  about  one  third  of  the  whole)  study 
English  Grammar,  and  only  one  boy  ;  and  one  intends  study- 
ing Latin  next  week.  And  now,  having  heard  of  my  situa- 
tion here,  3'ou  will  probably  be  glad  to  know  how"  I  came 
into  it.  And  I  assure  you  that  I  have  a  very  amusing 
account  to  give  you  of  my  journey  to  this  place.  To  begin, 
then : — I  w^as  so  afraid  of  being  left  by  the  stage,  that  I  left 
Uncle  Clarke's  with  scarce  half  a  dinner,  and,  to  complete  this 
grievous  misfortune,  I  had  to  lounge  about  the  market  for  half 
an  hour  before  the  vehicle  was  ready.  This  therefore  I  entered 
wdth  eight  more ;  and  a  shabbier  set  than  w^e,  I  believe,  never 
entered  stage-coach.  Thus  we  travelled  to  a  tavern  about  half 
w^ay  to  Salem  (but  in  w'hat  town  I  know  not) ;  and  till  we 
got  into  a  bar-room  there,  wdiere  one  man  was  pretty  talkative 
^owifiip,  and  the  stage-driver  about  his  pay, — till  then,  I  say, 
I  heard  not  a  word  spoken,  save  and  except  that  one  sailor 
cursed  the  driver,  and  another  asked  what  was  the  matter. 

"  After  this  w'e  had  company  a  little  more  talkative,  and  so 
arrived  at  Salem  just  about  candle-light.  The  driver  refused 
to  carry  me  to  Beverly;  so  I  left  my  trunk  at  the  tavern,  to 
be  carried  over  in  the  Newburyport  baggage-wagon.  I  did 
not  like  the  plan  very  well,  but  I  did  not  see  as  I  could  do 
better;  but,  when  I  got  to  Mr.  Eliot's,  I  hired  his  horse  and 
his  neighbor's  chaise,  and  so  went  and  brought  it  home, — 
sixty-six  cents,  and  twenty-five  cents  toll !  But  to  return  from 
this  digression  ;  — I  went  as  far  as  Beverly  Bridge  in  the  stage, 
and  w-alked  from  there.  With  much  difficulty  I  found  the 
house  of  Andrew  Eliot,  who  was  to  board  the  school-master. 
There  awaited  my  arrival  two  of  the  school  committee,  who 
gave  me  much  sage  advice,  and  administered  many  admirable 
admonitions,  and  instructions,  and  directions ;  particularly  with 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  35 

regard  to  Mr.  Pilsbury,  who  kept  this  school  last  year,  whom 
they  affirmed  to  be  the  very  best  master  they  ever  knew. 
'  He  had  a  most  curious  way  of  punishing  his  scholars ;  he 
used  to  talk  to  'em,  and  fairly  shame  'em  out  on't,— andhe  used 
to  pinch  their  ears,  and  everybody  but  two  was  very  well 
satisfied  with  him,'  &c.  In  such  conversation,  we  passed 
about  half  an  hour,  and  then  I  took  leave,  and  went  over  to 
Salem,  as  aforesaid.  But  I  must  not  forget  that  they  inquired 
about  my  recommendations,  whether  I  had  any  from  my 
minister,  &c.,  and  said  it  would  be  best  to  get  one,  as  it  was 
usual.  So  the  next  morning,  down  went  I  to  Mr.  Abbot's,  to 
be  examined,  and,  after  reading,  ciphering,  &c.,  I  was  permit- 
ted to  become  school-master.  Indeed,  Mr.  Allot  said  that 
Mr.  Hedge's  letter  to  him,  and  my  College  standing,  were 
recommendations  sufficient.  But  it  was  thought  best  that  I 
should  be  examined,  in  order  to  satisfy  the  District.  I  drank 
tea  at  Mr.  Abbot's,  and  thence  went  with  him  to  his  evening 
lecture,  where  he  spoke  extempore,  for  about  an  hour,  on  the 
excellence  of  the  Christian  religion. 

"  I  keep  seven  hours  a  day ;  — from  half-past  eight  to  twelve, 
and  from  one  to  half-past  five.  I  shall  soon  keep  eight  hours, 
as  the  committee  say  it  is  usual.  There  have  been  con- 
siderable objections  made  to  my  taking  Saturdays,  in  order  to 
make  oat  the  time ;  and  I  have  agreed  partly,  till  I  hear  from 
you,  not  to  keep  them. 

"  Tell  Lucy  and  Mary,  that  they  have  taught  me  to  be  so 
polite  to  ladies,  that  I  have  got  laughed  at  for  it  in  my  school ; 
for,  when  one  of  these  young  ladies,  my  pupils,  the  other  day 
came  to  me  with  her  pen,  I  gallantly  rose  from  my  chair,  and 
made  my  very  best  bow,  — at  which  the  boys  laughed.  How- 
ever, I  have  learned  here  to  think  a  little  better  of  girls  than  I 
used  to ;  for,  after  they  have  been  out,  the  boys  never  come  till 
they  are  called,  but  the  girls  always  return  of  their  own  accord 
before  their  time  is  out. 

"  I  believe  that  I  am  very  well  situated  here.     My  living, 


36 

as  far  as  I  can  see,  will  be  pretty  mucli  in  the  same  style  that 
it  was  at  Andover,  but  vastly  more  clean.  Mr.  Eliot  is  a 
sociable,  jolly,  facetious  fellow,  and  altogether  very  pleasant. 
I  live  about  a  mile  from  the  meeting-house,  ajid  the  post- 
office  where  I  have  got  to  carry  this  letter  to-night  (it  is  now 
half-past  seven) ;  and  so,  if  this  be  not  writing  fit  for  a  school- 
master, or  a  letter  fit  for  one  that  has  read  Cowper,  the  time, 
circumstances,  &c.,  of  the  case  will  plead  in  excuse.  I  wish 
that  I  had  time  and  paper  now  to  relate  many  conversations 
which  I  have  heard  here,  but  I  must  leave  it  for  some  future 
occasion.  I  am  well,  and  hope  the  same  is  the  case  with  all 
at  home.  Having  nothing  better  to  send,  I  send  this  hope,  and 
my  love  to  all, — and  therewith  subscribe  myself 

H.  Ware,  Jr. 

"  N.  B.  I  feel  myself  more  like  a  man,  in  company  and  in 
school,  than  I  expected.  I  really  believe  that  there  is  some 
magic  in  the  mighty  word  Sir,  which  has  a  potent  influence 
in  these  things.  But,  by  the  way,  I  must  say  a  word  in 
blame  of  my  school-house.  Such  a  little,  dirty  hole  for 
seventy  children,  I  never  saw ;  we  are  as  crowded  as  can  be, 
— no  comfort  at  all.  Some  of  the  boys  have  to  stand  out  on 
the  floor  while  the  others  write." 

During  this  residence  in  Beverly,  he  boarded  in  a 
family  entertaining  opinions  of  religious  doctrine  differ- 
ing entirely  from  those  in  Avhich  he  had  been  educated, 
and  which  were  held  by  the  friends  with  whom  he  had 
always  been  associated.  He  was  consequently  in  the 
Avay  of  hearing  a  good  deal  of  conversation  and  discus- 
sion on  the  subject  of  religion,  of  a  different  character 
from  that  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed.  His  mind 
was  thus  freshly  excited  concerning  it,  and  he  became 
much  interested  and  somewhat  anxious  and  disturbed. 
He  wrote  a  letter  to  his  father,  in  the  course  of  the  win- 


JR.  37 

ter,  exhibiting  this  state  of  mind,  and  asking  his  opin- 
ion and  advice  upon  several  points,  with  regard  to 
which  he  felt  doubts  and  difficulties.  This  letter, 
which  would  have  been  of  interest  in  showing  the  pro- 
gress of  his  mind  on  religious  subjects,  has  unfortunately 
been  lost ;  the  answer  to  it,  however,  which  I  insert, 
serves  very  well  to  indicate  what  were  the  topics  to 
which  it  related. 

from  his  father. 

"Jan.  17,  1811. 

"  I  received  yours  of  Tuesday,  this  evening.  I  had  begun 
to  apprehend  that  you  had  neglected  writing,  because  you 
were  unable  to  give  so  good  an  account  of  yourself  as  you 
would  wish.  I  am  in  some  measure  relieved  from  that  appre- 
hension, though  I  am  sorry  to  have  you  think  you  shall  not 
give  satisfaction.  Allow  no  such  fear  to  discourage  you  from 
the  very  best  exertions  of  which  you  are  capable.  Let  the 
largeness  of  your  school  stimulate  your  ambition,  and  call  forth 
energies  adequate  to  the  occasion.  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have 
you  keep  an  evening  school,  if  you  find  yourself  adequate  to 
the  task.  Any  exertion,  not  beyond  your  strength,  will  be 
useful  to  you. 

"  In  your  account  of  the  religious  state  of  the  place,  and 
prevalent  opinions,  I  think  it  possible  you  may  not  have 
acquired  a  perfectly  accurate  knowledge  of  it.  The  con- 
sequences, which  we  think  irresistibly  follow  from  men's 
opinions,  are  often  such  as  they  totally  disavow.  At  any  rate, 
the  religious  opinions  of  serious  and  conscientious  persons  are 
entitled  to  respect,  even  from  him  who  believes  them  to  be 
most  absurd  and  contradictory.  It  may  be  very  useful  to  you 
to  hear  conversation  on  religious  subjects,  and  to  converse 
yourself,  even  on  controversial  subjects.  Two  things  you  will 
learn  by  it,  if  you  exercise  that  good  sense,  which  I  hope  you 
4 


38  LIFE  OF   HENRY   WARE.    JR. 

do;— one  is,  to  bear  contradiction  with  patience,  and  treat 
persons  with  deference  who  hold  opinions  to  which  you  can- 
not subscribe ;  the  other,  not  to  think  it  necessary  to  give  up 
an  opinion,  and  immediately  think  it  wrong,  because  you  don't 
find  yourself  able  to  defend  it.  Many  truths  are  liable  to 
insuperable  objectio?is, —  I  mean  objections,  "which  no  finite 
mind  is  capable  of  removing  in  a  perfectly  satisfactory  manner. 
Such,  I  will  venture  to  say,  are  the  doctrines  to  which  you 
allude  in  your  letter,  which  side  of  the  argument  soever  you 
take  up.  Yet  one  side  or  the  other,  notwithstanding  such 
objections,  must  contain  the  truth. 

"  I  hope  you  will  learn  to  hear  whatever  is  said  with 
candor; — to  treat  all  persons  and  opinions  on  religious  subjects 
with  great  delicacy,— and  be  deliberate,  cautious,  and  con- 
scientious in  forming  your  own. 

"  I  know  not  how  I  shall  send  your  flute ;  still  I  may 
possibly  either  send  or  bring  it  to  you.  I  do  not  however 
see  what  use  you  will  make  of  it.  You  say  nothing  of  society 
— acquaintance — visiting.  I  trust  therefore  that  your  time  is 
not  much  taken  up  in  that  way;  and  am  not'sorry  that  it  is 
not." 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  experience  of  this  winter 
was  of  much  value  to  him,  partly  by  giving  him  confi- 
dence in  himself,  preparing  him  for  a  similar  occupa- 
tion after  leaving  college:  and  partly  by  renewing,  and 
fixing  more  deeply  in  his  mind,  his  interest  in  religion, 
as  a  system  of  doctrines,  as  well  as  a  rule  of  life.  His 
intercourse,  it  should  be  remarked,  was  not  exclusively 
with  those  of  different  religious  opinions,  beyond  the 
family  in  wdiich  he  boarded;  he  attended,  in  part  at 
least,  the  preacliing  of  the  Rev.  "Abiel  Abbot,  and  formed 
some  personal  acquaintance  w^ith  him. 


CHAPTER    III. 

BECOMES  ASSISTANT  IN    THE  ACADEMY  AT  EXETER,  N.  H.— HIS  CHOICE 
OF  A  PROFESSION  — CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  HIS  FATHER— JOURNAL. 

1812-13.     ^T.  18-19. 

At  the  time  of  his  leaving  College,  in  August,  1812, 
Henry  was  four  months  past  his  eighteenth  year.  He 
immediately  engaged  himself  as  an  assistant  in  the 
Academy  at  Exeter.  This  institution,  which  has  always 
held  so  high  a  rank  among  preparatory  schools,  was 
then  under  the  care  of  that  very  distinguished  instructor. 
Dr.  Benjamin  Abhot.  It  was  with  no  little  solicitude, 
that  he  undertook  a  task  so  responsible  in  itself,  and  to 
him  quite  formidable,  Avhen  he  considered  his  youth,  his 
very  youthful  appearance,  and  the  great  reputation  of 
the  school  and  its  head-master.  The  strong  feeling  of 
diffidence,  which  he  very  naturally  experienced,  with 
regard  to  his  success,  did  not  interfere  with  those  exer- 
tions which  were  necessary  to  secure  it ;  and  there  is 
reason  to  believe  that  he  soon  manifested  a  competency 
for  the  office,  which  secured  the  respect  of  the  students, 
and  the  confidence  of  the  Principal.  In  a  letter  to  his 
wife,  written  since  his  death,  Dr.  Abbot  says  : 

"  It  gave  me  great  pleasure  to  receive  a  note  with  your 
signature  attached  to  it.  It  revived  the  recollection  of  a  past 
happy  period  of  my  Ufe,  when  associated  with  your  beloved 


40 

husband  in  the  instruction  of  youth.  I  well  remember  my 
impressions,  when  he  first  made  his  appearance  in  Exeter,  and 
my  fears,  from  his  youthful  appearance  and  inexperience  in 
teaching  and  government,  that  he  might  be  found  inadequate 
to  his  station.  These  fears,  however,  were  soon  dissipated. 
The  sweetness  of  his  disposition,  his  open  frankness  of  man- 
ner, and  acknowledged  scholarship,  soon  gained  him  the  love 
and  confidence  of  his  pupils,  the  respect  and  affection  of  his 
brother  instructors.  His  two  years'  residence  in  this  place  left 
an  impression  on  all  who  had  the  happiness  to  know  him,  and 
is  still  fondly  cherished  in  the  recollections  of  all  who  survive 
him." 

Of  the  time  spent  in  Exeter,  he  used  always  to  speak 
with  the  most  mialloyed  satisfaction.  He  frequently 
reverted  to  it  in  after  life,  and  seldom  without  some  ex- 
pression of  pleasure.  All  his  recollections  of,  and  asso- 
ciations with,  the  place,  the  people,  and  his  residence 
there,  were  of  the  most  happy  kind.  He  was  then 
thrown  for  the  first  time,  for  any  considerable  period,  on 
himself  and  his  own  resources.  He  found  himself  at 
once  in  the  midst  of  an  agreeable  and  cultivated  society; 
among  persons,  to  whom  he  could  give,  and  from  whom 
lie  could  receive  pleasure.  Before  this  he  had  mixed 
but  little,  and  always  with  some  reluctance,  in  general 
company.  He  was,  constitutionally  and  hereditarily,  shy 
and  bashful.  The  effort  to  go  among  people,  especially 
those  older  than  himself,  was  almost  painful.  He  had 
consequently  associated  but  little  witli  persons  out  of 
the  circle  of  his  immediate  relatives ;  for  even  at  College, 
as  has  been  already  said,  lie  was  far  from  mingling 
much  in  the  society  of  his  classmates.  On  first  going 
to  Exeter,  therefore,  he  felt  but  little  confidence  in  his 
power  of  rendering  himself  acceptable,  and  hardly  sup- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    "WARE,    JR.  41 

posed  it  possible  that  he  should  be  expected  to  meet,  on 
terms  of  equality,  the  kind  of  society  into  which  he 
found  himself  immediately  and  most  cordially  invited. 
''  I  well  recollect,'^  says  Dr.  Abbot,  in  the  letter  just 
quoted,  ''  the  extreme  diffidence,  or  rather,  I  should  say, 
humble  opinion  of  himself,  so  uncommon  in  young  men 
fresh  from  the  University,  which  made  it  difficult  to 
persuade  him  to  accept  invitations  to  dine,  or  mix  with 
the  more  elderly  and  learned  of  our  society."  This 
reluctance,  however,  was  not  of  long  duration.  The 
very  familiar  and  unceremonious  habits  of  the  place ; 
the  kindness  with  which  he  was  welcomed ;  the  pleas- 
ure which  he  received  and  which  he  presently  found 
himself  capable  of  imparting,  speedily  removed  all  con- 
straint, and  he  was  soon  established  as  one  of  a  delight- 
ful circle,  with  whom  his  intercourse  was  constant,  and 
of  a  very  improving  character.  In  no  part  of  his  life, 
probably,  did  he  ever  enjoy  society  so  much,  for  its 
own  sake,  as  at  Exeter.  Some  of  his  warmest  personal 
attachments  were  formed  there,  and  he  made  many 
friends,  including  the  venerable  Principal,  by  whom  he 
was  always  held  in  strong  regard,  and  whom  he  never 
ceased  to  love  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

But  his  residence  there  was  not  merely  a  fortunate 
and  happy  one  as  it  afforded  him  an  opportunity  for  the 
gratification  and  the  improvement  to  be  derived  from 
intercourse  with  cultivated  society;  it  contributed  m 
various  ways  to  fit  him  for  his  subsequent  duties  and 
responsibilities.  It  afforded  a  kind  of  discipline,  which 
his  previous  retired  habits  and  home  education,  as  well 
as  his  temperament,  rendered  absolutely  necessary  in 
order  to  prepare  him  for  his  entrance  into  the  world. 
In  other  respects,  the  years  spent  at  Exeter  were  a 
4^ 


42  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

very  important  portion  of  his  life,  in  their  bearing  on 
those  which  followed.  It  was  while  here,  that  he 
finally  fixed  on  his  profession,  and  began  the  study  of 
it.  We  find  also,  that  here  he  chiefly  formed  those 
habits  and  modes  of  study,  matured  in  his  mind  those 
views  of  the  nature,  objects,  and  duties  of  the  ministry, 
and  began  that  collection  and  preparation  of  materials 
for  future  use,  which  aided  him  so  much  in  his  subse- 
quent progress,  and  contributed  so  largely  to  his  ulti- 
mate success.  I  doubt  if  there  were  any  equal  portion 
of  his  life,  in  which  so  distinct  a  progress  and  develop- 
ment of  character  were  to  be  noticed.  This  would 
have  been  true  to  some  extent,  perhaps,  of  the  same 
years,  "wherever  spent;  but  much  of  their  favorable 
influence  seems  to  have  been  connected  with  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  he  was  placed. 

His  first  letter,  giving  an  account  of  his  arrival,  intro- 
duction to  his  duties,  and  first  acquaintance  with  the 
society  of  the  place,  is  wanting.  The  following  is  a 
part  of  the  answer  to  it. 

from  his  father. 

"  Cambridge,  Sept.  14,  1812. 

"  The  first  thing  that  strikes  me  in  your 

letter,  is  your  handwriting.  I  advise  you  to  adopt  a  larger  let- 
ter, and  to  persevere  in  the  use  of  it,  at  least  as  large  as  that 
in  which  I  am  now  writing.  You  will  hereafter  enjoy  the 
benefit  of  it. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  are  so  well  pleased  with  your  lodg- 
ings ;  you  can  hardly  be  too  solicitous  to  make  yourself  agree- 
able in  return,  by  habits  of  sociability,  civil  attentions,  and  a 
constant  regard  to  those  pergonal  and  domestic  habits  which 
form  so  considerable  a  part  of  the  character  of  a  young  man. 


jR,  43 

But  you  are  in  no  small  danger,  on  the  other  hand,  of  being 
drawn  away  too  much  by  the  love  of  pleasant  society.  I  hope 
you  will  be  on  your  guard,  and  early  prescribe  to  yourself 
such  rules  and  limits,  as  will  consist  with  your  duty,  your 
improvement,  and  the  expectations  of  the  place. 

*'  Your  first  care  must  be  to  secure  the  character  of  com- 
petent abiUty  and  unfailing  fidelity,  as  an  instructor  in  the 
Academy;  your  next,  to  gain  all  that  you  can,  consistently 
with  this,  for  your  own  improvement.  Though  I  feel  an  entire 
confidence  in  your  present  correctness  of  mind,  it  is  impossible 
for  me  not  to  feel  some  solicitude  upon  your  first  going  into  the 
world  to  act  for  yourself  at  so  early  a  period.  It  is  for  you  to 
show  whether  my  confidence  or  my  solicitude  have  the  best 
foundation. 

"  I  wish  you  would  \vrite  to  me  soon,  and  largely,  respect- 
ing every  circumstance  in  your  situation.  I  wish  you  to  tell 
me  whether  you  have  fixed  on  a  profession;  if  you  are  still 
not  fully  resolved,  let  me  know  the  state  of  your  mind,  its 
balancings,  and  what,  and  in  what  degree,  are  its  preponder- 
ances." 

to  his  father. 

"  Exeter,  Sept.  23,  1812. 
"  I  received  your  letter  last  evening ;  had  I  seen  it  sooner,  I 
should  have  written  very  differently  by  Folsom.  I  said  no- 
thing then  which  I  intended,  and  shall  be  able  to  say  but  little 
now ;  for  I  have  been  engaged  all  to-day  and  this  evening,  and 
must  send  early  to-morrow.  You  wish  to  know  of  my  situa- 
tion. I  can  hardly  describe  it  by  writing,  and  must  leave  it 
for  my  return.  I  am,  however,  perfectly  contented  and  pleased, 
am  treated  like  one  of  the  family,  and  consider  myself  as  entirely 
at  home,  and  a  pleasant  home  it  is.  I  have  formed  but  few 
acquaintances ;  but  I  foresee  that  I  shall  have  a  good  deal  of  visit- 
ing to  do.  If  I  may  judge  from  what  I  have  seen,  it  will  be 
very  agreeable.     I  hope,  however,  that  there  will  be  no  reason 


44  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

to  complain  that  I  neglect  my  duty  for  company,  or  that  I  am 
not  faithful  to  the  extent  of  my  abilities,  though  they  should 
be  found  not  competent  to  the  task.  The  expression  of  your 
confidence  in  my  present  intentions  gave  me  great  pleasure, 
and  it  shall  be  my  constant  study  to  prove  it  well-grounded, 
and  to  dispel  all  solicitude  with  respect  to  my  adherence  to  the 
habits  in  which  I  have  been  educated.  I  hope  my  connexion 
with  Dr.  Abbot  and  the  other  gentlemen  in  this  place,  will 
keep  me  right.  Though  he  is  a  very  pleasant  and  easy  man, 
my  respect  for  him  is  so  aivfid  that  I  cannot  learn  to  consider 
him  as  a  companion.  I  believe  there  is  no  boy  in  school  feels 
worse  to  be  detected  by  him  in  a  fault  than  I  do,  when  I  think 
he  is  listening  to  my  recitations.  The  duties  of  the  Academy 
are  less  arduous  than  I  expected.  The  language  department 
is  not  so  full  now  as  usual ;  the  difficulties  of  the  times  occa- 
sion that  more  should  study  English. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  what  is  going  on  in  the  world  ;  I  should 
be  glad  if  in  your  letters  you  would  let  me  know  what  the 
great  and  the  good  are  doing." 

from  his  father. 

''•  Sept.  25,  1812. 
"  You  wish  to  know  what  the  wise  and  the  good  are  doing. 
If  I  were  disposed  to  be  gloomy  and  cynical,  I  should  say  they 
were  sitting  still,  and  waiting  to  see  how  the  foolish  and  bad 
will  come  out.  It  is  not,  however,  exactly  so,  but  it  is  too 
nearly.  Folly  and  wickedness  are  more  active,  and  wisdom 
and  virtue  less  so,  than  would  be  for  the  peace,  improvement, 
and  happiness  of  the  world.  In  the  two  great  interests  that 
engage  the  chief  attention  of  men,  and  produce  most  of  the 
excitement  that  we  either  rejoice  or  mourn  to  see,— religion  and 
politics, — the  greatest  zeal,  activity  and  influence  are  not  always 
to  be  considered  as  certain  marks  of  the  greatest  wisdom,  or 
the  purest  sincerity  ;  it  is  well  if  they  happen  not  in  company 


LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  45 

with  both  intellectual  and  moral  qualities  of  an  opposite  char- 
acter." 

to  his  father. 

"  Oct.  3,  1812. 

"With  respect  to  a  profession,  &c.,  it  is  a 

long  business,  and  one  which  J  cannot  enter  upon  at  present. 
Such  thoughts  as  shall  at  any  time  occur  to  me,  I  shall  trans- 
mit to  you,  hoping  to  receive  your  advice  and  direction.  The 
first  thing,  I  believe,  to  be  done,  is  to  consider  which  will  make 
me  the  best  and  the  happiest  man,  and  in  which  I  can  do  most 
good.  This  is  as  far  as  I  have  got  yet;  and,  though  I  have 
always  been  of  opinion  that  a  clergyman's  life  is  the  most 
respectable  and  happy,  and  most  useful,  or  at  least  capable  of 
being  the  most  useful  to  society ;  yet  a  thousand  difficulties  and 
dangers  present  themselves  at  the  very  outset,  which  have 
deterred  me  from  choosing  it.  Until  these  are  in  some  degree 
removed,  as  I  hope  they  may  be  by  your  assistance,  I  shall  be 
totally  undecided ;  and  at  present  I  see  but  little  prospect  of  my 
beginning  any  study  so  early  as  next  year,  and  perhaps  it  is 
best  Ishould  not.  The  more  I  think  on  the  subject,  the  more 
unsettled  I  become.  However,  there  is  no  knov/ing  what  a 
day  Avill  bring  forth,  and  I  believe  that  present  anxiety  will  do 
but  little  good." 

The  following  passage  is  extracted  from  a  letter 
written  at  this  time  to  a  brother  who  had  just  entered 
college.  A  young  man  of  eighteen  will  not  often  be 
allowed  to  assume  the  office  of  a  Mentor,  nor  be  listened 
to  with  respect ;  in  this  case,  however,  the  mideviating 
propriety  of  his  own  conduct  and  his  strict  adherence 
to  duty,  as  it  gave  him  some  right  to  advise,  estab- 
lished also  a  claim  to  the  confidence  of  those  whom  he 
addressed. 


46  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

to  his  brother  v/illiam. 

"  Oct.  24,  1812. 
"  But  I  wish  to  speak  seriously  with  you,  for  you  are  enter- 
ing on  four  years,  that  may  be  happy  or  miserable,  that  will 
bring  you  good  or  evil,  as  you  choose.  And,  as  I  have  lately 
passed  over  the  ground,  before  you,  and  know  its  dangerous 
places,  and  how  it  should  be  travelled,  I  am  particularly  anxious 
that  you  should  start  right,  so  as  to  get  through  well.  For, 
though  I  know  you  will  scarcely  believe  it,  a  great  deal,  indeed 
almost  all,  depends  upon  the  first  setting  out.  Only  begin 
rightly.  Of  a  bad  beginning  it  is  hard  to  correct  the  evils,  and 
the  greatest  danger  of  commencing  ill  lies  in  the  company  you 
keep.  I  wished  to  have  written  to  you  earlier,  to  urge  you 
earnestly  to  form  no  intimacies,  till  you  have  found  out  who 
are  your  likeliest  fellows.  For  if  you  make  acquaintances 
early,  you  do  it  without  a  knowledge  of  their  characters,  and  it 
may  be  a  permanent  injury  to  you ;  for  you  are  more  likely  to 
fall  into  the  company  of  the  bad  than  of  the  good,  because  the 
latter  are  cautious  and  reserved,  while  the  former  drag  into 
their  train  all  they  can  seize.  Late  as  this  warning  comes  to 
you,  I  hope  it  will  not  be  too  late  for  you  to  profit  by  it.  The 
path  of  your  duty  is  plain,  and  I  know  you  are  inclined  to  pur- 
sue it.  Let  your  resolution  not  flag,  but  walk  straight  for- 
wards, and  justify  the  hopes  of  your  father  and  friends.  There 
will  be  more  pleasure  in  hearing  them  say,  '  Well  done,' 
when  you  have  finished,  than  in  all  the  scenes  of  irregular 
pleasure  which  college  affords." 

The  following  extract  relates  to  '•  The  General  Repos- 
itory and  Review,"  a  quarterly  periodical  publication, 
projected  and  edited  by  Professor  Norton.  This  was  a 
work  of  high  character,  and  took  the  lead  in  the  theo- 
logical discussions  of  the  day.  There  were  too  few  at 
that  period,  who  could  suitably  appreciate  such  a  work, 
and  it  continued  in  existence  but  a  few  years 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  47 


TO    HIS    FATHER. 

"  Nov.  23,  1812. 
"  I  received  your  subscription-paper  on  Saturday.  1  have 
showed  it  to  Dr.  Abbot,  but  he  gives  me  slight  hopes  of  obtain- 
ing subscribers  here.  For,  though  there  are  a  number  of  lite- 
rary men  here,  their  thoughts  and  business  are  very  distant 
from  anything  of  this  kind.  Show  them  a  political  magazine, 
and  they  might  patronize  it ;  or  a  light  work  of  polite  literature, 
which  might  serve  for  recreation  after  the  bustle  of  a  busy 
day ;  but  they  feel  no  interest  in  theological  controversy,  or  lite- 
rary discussions,  which  must  be  studied  in  order  to  be  relished. 
Of  the  work  itself,  he  spoke  in  high  terms,  and  said,  very 
clearly,  such  a  thing  ought  to  be  supported,  but  its  tone  is  a 
grade  too  high  for  our  country  yet ;  it  ought  to  have  more 
entertainment  and  less  abstruseness ;  and,  till  this  is  the  case, 
till  its  plan  is  very  essentially  altered,  it  cannot  flourish.  Mr. 
Hildreth  said,  it  was  too  heretical;  make  a  '  Panoplist'  of  it; 
give  long,  and  wondrous,  and  dolorous  accounts  of  conversions, 
revivals,  &c.,  and  it  would  do  well  enough.  I  cannot  deter- 
mine with  certainty  as  yet,  but  from  what  I  know  of  the  place, 
and  from  Dr.  A.'s  conversation,  little  or  no  increase  of  sub- 
scription can  be  expected  from  this  quarter.  I  am  very  sorry  to 
find  this  is  the  case;  for,  the  more  I  see  of  the  book,  the 
more  I  admire  it." 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  following  letter  of  his  father, 
written  in  March,  1813,  that  notwithstanding  the  ex- 
pressions of  doubt  as  to  his  choice  of  a  profession,  con- 
tained in  the  letter  of  October  3d,  the  prevailing  bent  of 
his  mind  was  to  the  study  of  divinity.  Indeed,  I  do  not 
imagine,  that  he  had  really  so  considerable  a  hesitancy 
upon  the  subject  as  he  himself  supposed.  What  his 
predominant  inclmation  had  always  been,  I  am  confident 
from  my  own  recollection ;  still,  when  it  became  abso- 


48  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

lutely  necessary  to  decide  the  point,  he  felt  doubts 
and  misgivings  which  he  had  never  experienced  when 
looking  at  the  subject  from  a  distance.  The  office  of  a 
minister  he  had  always  regarded  with  a  species  of  awe, 
as  one  of  peculiar  sacredness,  and  as  requiring  a  special 
sanctity  in  those  who  assumed  it.  It  was  natural, 
therefore,  that  he  should  hesitate  for  a  moment,  when 
called  on  to  determine,  and  should  distrust  somewhat 
his  own  fitness  for  the  task.  No  one,  indeed,  who  enters 
this  profession  without  something  of  these  feelings,  can 
be  regarded  as  fit  to  enter  it.  In  his  case,  whatever  may 
have  been  the  state  of  his  niind  while  he  had  the  subject 
under  consideration,  no  one  who  had  known  him  could 
have  entertained  the  least  doubt  how  the  deliberation 
would  end.  The  letter  itself  sufficiently  indicates  the 
topics  of  that  which  suggested  it.  It  was  written  soon 
after  he  had  spent  one  of  his  vacations  at  home. 

from  his  father. 

«  March  4,  1813. 

"  I  expected  to  have  received  one  or  two  letters  from  you 
before  this  time ;  but  I  presume  your  reason  for  not  having- 
written  is  that  which  prevented  Father  Wibird  from  getting 
up  before  sunrise, — mere  respect,  a  sense  of  decorum, — you 
had  too  much  respect  for  your  father  to  write  before  him. 
That  restraint  will  be  taken  off  now,  and  you  need  no  longer 
be  prevented  by  any  scruples  of  delicacy,  and  I  hope  you  will 
not  by  want  of  leisure  or  want  of  inclination. 

"  Your  letter  to  Lucy  was  calculated  to  give  me  some  alarm. 
I  consider  there  is  always  danger  that  persons  naturally  bash- 
ful and  taciturn,  when  they  once  break  through  the  restraints 
of  nature  and  constitution,  will  also  break  over  those  of  deco- 
rum and  modesty,  and  go  into  the  opposite  extreme  of  impu- 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  49 

dence.  The  very  effort  it  costs  to  overcome  the  reluctance  of 
nature  has  a  tendency  to  hurry  you  to  an  extreme ;  as  the 
violent  push  required  to  open  a  sticking  door  endangers  your 
tumbling  on  your  nose  when  it  opens.  I  trust,  however,  you 
wdll  have  care  enough  to  keep  your  centre  of  gravity,  and  good 
sense  enough  to  apply  to  moral  and  practical  purposes  that  law 
in  physics,  by  which  a  body  is  disposed  to  move  with  an 
irregular  and  dangerous  force,  which  has  had  a  resisting  power 
suddenly  removed. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  find  so  little  time  for  study.  I  should 
exceedingly  regret  your  own  improvement  being  retarded  by 
your  business,  and  the  time  greatly  protracted  of  your  qualify- 
ing yourself  for  your  profession.  From  your  observations  the 
evening  before  you  left  Cambridge,  I  inferred  that  your 
tendency  was  prevalently  toward  the  study  of  divinity.  If  that 
be  the  case,  you  will  of  course  bend  your  reading  in  that  direc- 
tion. As  you  teach  the  Testament,  you  will  give  it  a  more 
critical  view  than  you  would  otherwise  do.  I  would  advise 
you  also  to  write  constantly  on  subjects  connected  with  your 
studies,  and  on  which  you  are  reading.  Remember  Lord 
Bacon  on  reading,  writing,  conversation,—'  the  full,  exact,  and 
7-eady  man.'  I  should  think,  that,  in  the  intervals  of  school, 
books  connected  with  biblical  and  ecclesiastical  history,  being 
lighter  than  strictly  theological  books,  might  be  preferable. 
And  there  is,  perhaps,  no  better  introduction  to  the  study  of 
divinity,  than  a  thorough  acquaintance  with  the  history  of  the 
Jewish  and  Christian  churches." 

I  may  add,  that  a  journal  which  he  kept,  though 
somewhat  irregularly,  at  this  period  of  his  residence  in 
Exeter,  bears  marks  of  the  prevailing  tendency  of  his 
mind.  His  thoughts,  his  mode  of  viewing  every  subject 
of  which  he  speaks,  and  of  remarking  on  the  hooks 
which  he  is  reading,  all  show  clearly  where  his  heart 
5 


60  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

was.  In  this  journal  are  several  analyses  of  sermons, 
which  he  heard,  and  remarks  upon  the  style  and  man- 
ner of  .the  preachers ;  especially  a  full  account  of  the 
preaching  of  Dr.  Parker  of  Portsmouth,  showing  a  very 
just  appreciation  of  the  peculiar  excellences  of  that 
eminent  divine,  and  corresponding  in  a  remarkable 
manner  with  the  estimate  he  formed  of  him  at  a  more 
mature  period  of  life,  when  he  became  his  biographer. 
I  quote  from  this  journal,  as  an  evidence  of  this  ten- 
dency of  his  thoughts,  and  also  as  an  example  of  his 
mode  of  thinking  at  this  period,  the  following  passage, 
which  forms  the  conclusion  of  some  remarks  suggested 
by  the  readmg  of  ''  Solomon's  Song." 

"  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  that  same  language  held  to  the 
incomprehensible  Jehovah,  which  is  used  in  expressing  a 
worldly  passion  to  the  beauty  of  a  day ;  it  is  shocking  to  me. 
A  person  of  an  ardent  disposition  may  thus  imagine  to  be  the 
expressions  of  a  fervent  piety,  what  are  only  the  overflowings 
of  the  natural  temperament.  Indeed,  I  object  altogether  to  the 
publishing  of  very  ardent  and  fervent  devotional  exercises. 
They  come  into  the  hands  of  simple  people,  whose  mind  is 
naturally  less  warm  and  enthusiastic,  but  who  intend  and 
endeavor  to  live  a  Christian  life;  but,  when  they  see  this 
extravagance  of  feeling  in  others  and  compare  it  with  their  own 
more  quiet  and  placid  state,  they  begin  to  think  that  all  is  not 
right  in  themselves,  and  they  are  afflicted  and  in  despair  at 
what  is  perhaps  no  more  than  the  result  of  the  natural  constitu- 
tion of  their  minds.  Or  it  may  lead  others,  who  are  quite  as 
warm,  and  do  not  regulate  their  minds  by  reason,  to  create  in 
themselves  a  factitious  spirit  of  devotion,  and  to  construe  enthu- 
siasm of  feeling  into  real  piety.  Such,  too,  will  be  the  natural 
effect  of  flaming  accounts  of  conversions  and  revivals  upon  weak 
but  warm  spirits ;  they  will  readily  fancy  in  themselves  what 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   AVARE,   JR.  51 

they  admire  in  others  and  wish  to  experience  ;  and  thus  we  shall 
have  a  sickly,  high-wrought  state  of  feeling  supplant  the  milder 
but  more  steady  flame  of  pure  and  rational  religion  ; — rational, 
not  in  the  sense  of  those  who  would  exalt  reason  as  infallible, 
and  set  up  its  decisions  in  opposition  to  those  of  revelation,  but 
only  so  far  as  it  guides  and  directs  our  faith  and  practice,  going 
hand  in  hand  with  the  heart,  the  faithful  servant  of  God." 

The  following  is  Henry's  answer  to  the  letter  from 
his  father  last  quoted.  It  should  be  stated  in  explana- 
tion of  the  concluding  remark  in  it,  that  he  was  at  this 
time  teaching  the  Greek  Testament  in  the  course  of  his 
duty  as  an  instructor,  and  took  the  opportunity  to  give 
to  it  a  more  critical  attention  than  was  required  in  the 
mere  preparation  for  his  exercises,  using  the  Cambridge 
reprint  of  Griesbach's  text. 

'  to  his  father. 

"  March  14,  1813. 

"  How  far  the  course  I  desire  w^ould  be  practicable,  I  know 
not;  as  far  as  it  would,  I  am  determined  to  pursue  it.  At 
present,  my  chief  concern  is  to  become  a  religious  man ;  to 
regulate  my  conduct,  and  form  my  habits,  so  that  I  may  con- 
scientiously exercise  the  office  of  a  minister.  And  I  find  it  no 
easy  matter  to  become  what  I  wish ;  the  more  I  look  into  my- 
self, the  more  evil  propensities  and  secret  faults  I  find  which 
need  correction ;  and  then,  if  I  make  a  virtuous  resolution  in 
the  morning,  it  is  ten  to  one  that  I  break  it  before  night.  Till 
I  can  make  myself  the  character  I  think  I  ought  to  be,  I  shall 
not  think  of  coming  forward  to  teach  others.  I  believe  I  might 
learn  to  my  satisfaction  the  speculative  and  theoretical  parts  of 
religion.  I  might  learn  to  criticize  and  comment,  and  give 
good  advice,  &c.,  very  well ;  but  unless  I  felt  and  lived  according 
to  what  I  taught,  constantly  and  directly,  it  is  plain  I  should 
only  be  enhancing  my  own  guilt  and  danger.     I  find  I  have 


52  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE.   JR. 

been  very  prolix,  and  1  am  afraid  tedious ;  but  I  wish  to  write 
to  you  as  I  feel  and  think,  for  I  wish  your  remarks  and 
advice. 

"  I  have  found  two  small  errors  in  Griesbach,  which  perhaps 
you  have  not ; — 2  Peter  i.  3,  and  in  James  ii.  14,  sgycc  is  written 
with  an  aspirate  £gy(x ;  which  last,  however,  is  rather  of  curious 
than  7'cal  importance.  With  respect  to  yEvvaaru,  I  doubted 
whether  it  were  not  a  various  reading,  and  therefore  did  not 
note  it  in  my  margin." 

Whilst  at  home,  during  his  next  vacation  in  May, 
the  question  of  his  profession  was  definitively  settled ;  he 
commenced  his  studies  in  earnest  and  with  more  system. 
His  correspondence  with  his  father  now  assumed  more 
distinctly  a  professional  character,  and  the  remainder 
of  his  residence  at  Exeter  Vvdll  require  little  more  than 
extracts  from  this  correspondence  and  from  his  journal, 
to  convey  a  pretty  just  idea  of  the  gradual  manner  in 
which  his  character  was  forming,  and  of  the  earnestness 
with  which  he  was  preparing  himself  for  the  great  work 
of  life, 

to  his  father. 

«  May  30,  1813. 
"  I  have  been  reading  a  few  sermons,  but  none,  indeed  none 
that  I  ever  read,  struck  me  so  much  as  I\Ir.  Channing's  at  the 
ordination  of  Mr.  Codman.  It  seems  to  me  powerful  and  im- 
pressive beyond  example.  It  must  be  a  treasure  to  young 
ministers,  and  ought  to  stop  effectually  the  cold  sermonizing 
of  your  rationalists,  who  maintain  the  strange  contradiction, 
of  religion  without  feeling.  If  such  a  thing  were  possible,  it 
would  be  scarcely  worth  having,  I  think.  It  seems  to  me  Mr. 
C banning  has  exactly  dra^vn  his  own  character,  as  far  as  I 
know  it.  There  are  the  same  traits  of  unaffectedness,  earnest- 
ness, and  solemnity  in  himself  and   in  the  portrait  he  has 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  53 

drawn.  Is  it  not  strange  that  I  should  have  heard  no  more  of 
this  Sermon? 

"  I  find  myself  greatly  perplexed  and  doubtful  in  respect  to 
many  of  the  controverted  points  of  doctrine,  i.  e.  of  some  of 
them  I  think  scarcely  at  all,  but  concerning  some  I  am 
anxious;  they  haunt  me  perpetually,  and,  v/hile  many  think 
them  of  such  vast  moment,  I  am  sometimes  afraid  it  is  wrong 
to  keep  myself  wavering.  But  yet,  is  it  best  to  dabble  in  con- 
troversy at  present,  or  let  light  come  in  by  degrees  as  I  pursue 
the  study  of  the  Scriptures  ?  With  respect  to  one  thing,  how- 
ever, the  Lord's  Supper,  I  think  I  ought  to  be  immediately 
determined.  I  had  by  some  means,  perhaps  naturally  enough, 
been  led  to  look  on  this  institution  with  a  superstitious  awe, 
bordering  on  horror.  I  thought  it  was  a  mystery  which  it 
would  be  criminal  to  look  at  familiarly,  and  to  partake  of  the 
bread  and  wine  required  a  degree  of  sanctity  and  an  indescri- 
bable, mysterious  something,  v/hich  only  a  few  favored  spirits, 
not '  touched  but  rapt,'  could  attain  to.  These  notions,  with  a 
long  train  of  appendages,  I  got  at  Beverly,  I  believe.  But, 
from  my  own  study  of  the  Bible,  I  have  been  led  to  think  them 
erroneous,  and  that  nothing  should  prevent  me,  but  that  I  am 
in  duty  bound  to  become  a  partaker.  Will  you  write  me  your 
opinion,  and  advise  me  what  treatises  to  read,  that  will  give 
me  most  correct  views  of  the  subject,  its  nature,  design,  and 
history,  and  the  obligations  of  those  who  partake  it?  Are 
Clarke's  Sermons  on  this  subject  to  be  trusted  ? 

"  In  this  letter  I  have  talked  very  freely,  probably  like  a 
novice ;  but  I  have  two  objects  in  view,  (a  little  distinct 
from  absolute  want  of  information,)  which  I  am  unwilling  to 
give  up.  First,  to  draw  from  you  all  the  assistance  I  can  ; 
for  what  I  obtain  in  this  way,  I  shall  prize  more  than  if  I 
obtained  it  otherwise.  Second,  to  habituate  myself  to  writ- 
ing seriously,  that  you  may  see  my  manner,  and  tell  me 
wherein  it  is  faulty  and  how  I  may  correct  it.  Not  that  you 
are  to  consider  my  letters  as  elaborate  essays,  for  I  never 
5# 


64  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

write  more  than  one  copy ;  but  yet  the  general  character  of 
my  style  will  be  visible,  and  may  perhaps  afford  fair  subject 
of  criticism.  I  know  that  I  am  asking  what  will  give  you 
much  trouble ;  but  I  have  been  so  accustomed  to  apply  to  3^ou, 
and  have  found  you  so  ready  always  to  assist  me,  that  I  have 
learned  to  believe  you  consider  it  rather  a  pleasure  than  a 
task." 

from  his  father. 

"  June  5,  1813. 

"  I  will  take  up  your  letter  by  paragraphs ;  so  that,  if  you 
complain  of  it  as  desultory,  I  may  be  able  to  throw  back  the 
charge  of  it  upon  yourself. 

*'  I  am  glad,  then,  that  you  have  read  Mr.  Channing's  Ser- 
mon. Its  impression  is  such  as  I  should  have  expected,  for  I 
think  it  one  of  the  happiest  efforts  of  pulpit  eloquence.  But  I 
do  not  know  exactly  what  you  mean  by  the  cold  rationalists, 
who  maintain  religion  without  feeling.  Never,  perhaps,  was  a 
charge  more  unjustly  applied  than  that  usually  is.  In  no  ser- 
monizers  will  you  find  higher  degrees  of  true  warmth,  more 
glowing  zeal  for  truth  and  virtue,  or  more  ardent  piety  and 
benevolence  breathed  forth,  (free,  to  be  sure,  from  the  wildfire 
of  fanaticism,  and  the  consuming  flames  of  bigotry  and  secta- 
rianism,) than  in  those  w^hom  modern  cant  stigmatizes  as  ration- 
alists. The  gentleman  with  whose  Sermon  you  are  so  justly 
enraptured,  is  a  striking  example.  The  thing  itself  which  you 
mean  to  censure,  I  most  heartily  join  with  you  in  censuring; 
but  you  will  find  that  coldness  is  not  exclusively  the  attribute 
of  the  rational.  You  will  find  that  the  irrational  may  also  be 
cold  and  heartless. 

"  With  respect  to  points  of  controversy  with  which  you  are 
haunted,  it  is  very  natural  and  very  proper  that  you  should 
wish,  and  seek,  to  have  your  doubts  and  perplexities  removed. 
But  you  have  very  properly  expressed  the  precise  course 
which  you  now  ought  to  take ;  '  let  light  come  in  by  degrees, 


LIFE    OF    HENKY    WARE,   JR.  55 

as  you  pursue  the  study  of  the  Scriptures.'  A  sudden  flash 
may  give  you  what  you  think  to  be  a  distinct  view  of  objects 
for  the  moment,  but  the  darkness  will  be  the  deeper  and  more 
perceptible  as  soon  as  it  is  over.  The  only  light  that  will  be 
a  safe  guide  to  you,  will  be  the  slow,  gradual,  but  sure  open- 
ing of  the  day. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  turned  your  thoughts  to  the 
Lord's  Supper.  I  have  been  hoping,  that  both  you  and  your 
sisters  would  propose  the  subject  to  me  before  this  time.  I 
wish  you  would  write  to  them  upon  it.  I  am  gratified,  too, 
that  by  recurring  to  the  best  guide  on  the  subject,— the  Bible, 
— the  mystery  in  which  you  saw  the  ordinance  enveloped,  is 
dissipated.  Nothing  surely  can  be  more  astonishing,  or  humi- 
liating, than  that  an  institution  so  perfectly  plain  and  simple, 
should  have  been  susceptible  of  such  corruption  and  perver- 
sion. 

"  The  best  treatises  you  can  read  on  the  subject,  are  the 
simple  account  of  its  institution  by  the  Evangelists,  and  Paul's 
account  of  it  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians. 

"  Dr.  Clarke's  (I  suppose  you  mean  Dr.  John,  of  Boston,) 
'  History 'and  'Design  of  the  Lord's  Supper,'  I  think  are  per- 
fectly correct,  and  ought  to  be  highlj^  satisfactory  to  the 
inquirer. 

"  It  is  a  subject  on  which  I  think  very  little  light  is  needed, 
and  long  treatises  are  tedious  and  useless ;  what  is  wanted,  is, 
not  more  true,  but  less  false  light. 

"  If,  when  we  go  to  the  Bible,  we  leave  behind  us  our  pre- 
judices, false  views,  the  '  mystery  w^e  got  at  Beverly,'— and 
take  our  notions  from  the  simple  account  we  there  find,  we 
shall  be  terrified  with  no  spectres,  and  need  no  light  on  the 
subject.  Nor  will  the  ordinance  lose  any  of  its  interest  by 
becoming  more  intelligible,  and  less  mysterious  and  awful. 

"  You  are  right  in  feeling  a  confidence  in  my  readiness  to 
give  you  any  aid  in  my  power,  and  in  believing  that  I  shall  be 
very  far  from  thinking  it  a  trouble.     I  am  glad  to  have  you 


56 


JR. 


write  to  me  on  serious  subjects,  and  it  gives  me  pleasure  that 
you  treat  them  seriously.  Except  the  affectation  of  unnatural 
and  disproportioned  seriousness  in  trifles,  nothing  can  be  more 
offensive  than  levity  on  subjects  really  serious  and  important. 
I  trust  you  will  carefully  avoid,  alike  from  feeling  and  from 
principle,  both  the  one  and  the  other. 

TO   HIS   FATHER. 

"  JuxE  13,  1813. 
"  In  speaking  of  rationalists,  I  did  not  mean  to  say  there 
were  any  to  whom  the  censure  would  apply  in  its  full  extent, 
much  less  to  give  all  the  name,  to  whom  I  suppose  many 
would  apply  it.  But  I  think  there  is  a  tendency  to  that  ex- 
treme, especially  in  persons  just  entering  the  ministry.  They 
are  so  afraid  of  the  opposite  enthusiasm  and  superstition,  that, 
in  their  attempts  to  avoid  it,  they  fall  into  an  error  equally 
great.  While  they  assert  the  rights  of  reason,  is  there  not 
danger  that  they  will  urge  them  too  far,  and  refuse  altogether 
the  exercise  of  feeling  ?  that  they  will  regard  religion  too  much 
as  a  study,  something  to  be  thought  upon  and  reasoned  about, 
and  in  which  all  feeling  should  be  repressed  as  leading  to 
deception  and  error  ?  From  trying  revelation  at  the  bar  of 
reason,  is  there  not  danger  of  coming  at  last  to  make  it  sole 
arbiter,  and  exalting  it  above  the  former  ?  And  may  not  a 
man  become  at  length  so  completely  rational,  as  to  hesitate 
upon  any  emotion  of  gratitude  and  love,  and  to  inquire,  '  Do 
I  not  feel  too  much  ?'  and  instead  of  asking  himself,  '  Have  I 
sufRcient  humility  and  penitence?'  to  ask,  '  Have  I  not  more 
than  I  need  ?  Would  not  less  answer  the  purpose  ? '  I  would 
not  have  men  give  up  their  reason  and  become  fanatics ;  but 
neither  do  I  wish  them,  on  the  other  hand,  to  give  up  feeling. 
[  would  let  both  have  their  influence,  and  each  act  as  a  check  on 
the  other ;  for  I  think  it  is  in  the  proper  mixture  and  regulation 
of  these  that  the  perfection  and  beauty  of  religion  consists.     I 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JK.  57 

do  not  think  our  opinions  here  at  all  different ;  but  I  fancy  I 
can  see  a  danger  where  you  see  none.  And  the  reason  is,  I 
am  at  a  greater  distance  from  the  centre,  and  hear  many 
observations  which  never  reach  you. 

"  Since  writing  to  you  last,  I  have  read  Campbell's  '  Lec- 
tures on  Systematic  Theology  and  Palpit  Eloquence.'  I  do 
not  remember  ever  to  have  heard  of  the  book  before.  I  was 
delighted  with  it;  it  has  perfectly  removed  all  haste  to  be 
satisfied  on  controversial  points,  and  has  completely  convinced 
me  in  regard  to  the  right  way  of  study,  though  in  truth  I  had 
few  doubts  before.  Indeed,  it  would  require  all  the  sound 
judgment  and  discretion  of  Campbell  himself  to  follow  his  plan 
perfectly,  so  as  to  reap  all  the  advantages  of  which  it  is  capa- 
ble ;  but  let  every  one  do  it  in  his  measure,  and  there  can  be 
no  question  of  its  benefits. 

"  I  have  dipped  a  little  into  ecclesiastical  history,  and  find  it 
exactly  like  all  others,  but  a  melancholy  account  of  the  weak- 
ness, folly  and  contentions  of  mankind,  whose  blessings  seem 
only  to  be  exxeeded  by  the  abuse  of  them,  and  who  make 
themselves  miserable  in  proportion  to  their  means  of  happi- 
ness. Christianity  never  was  purer  than  at  present,  since  the 
days  of  its  first  professors.  I  have  been  taught  to  believe  that 
the  pride  of  human  reason  was  opposed  to  its  progress,  and 
could  not  receive  its  doctrines  without  corrupting  them.  But 
ignorance  is  as  proud  as  learning,  quite  as  unyielding  in  sup- 
port of  its  opinions,  and  as  great  a  corrupter  of  the  truth." 

In  his  journal,  he  enters  into  the  following  more  ex- 
tended course  of  remark,  suggested  by  the  perusal  of 
the  work  of  Campbell  alluded  to  in  the  last  letter.  It 
indicates  the  existence  of  a  state  of  opinion  and  feeling 
on  the  subject  of  religion,  which  was  strongly  charac- 
teristic of  him  through  life. 

"  Campbell's  *  Lectures  on  Systematic  Theology,  and  Pul- 


58  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

pit  Eloquence,' I  have  accidentally  met  with;  and  though  I  do 
not  recollect  having  heard  of  them  before,  I  have  borrowed 
them,  trusting- 1  should  find  nothing  of  this  author  but  what  is 
valuable.  Nor  have  I  been  disappointed.  I  have  been  highly- 
interested  and  instructed  by  their  perusal,  particularly  those 
in  which  he  speaks  of  the  manner  in  which  young  men  should 
study,  and  the  course  they  ought  to  pursue.  Upon  which  points 
I  was  not  before  perfectly  satisfied,  but  am  now.  He  seems  to 
have  marked  out  with  great  precision  the  province  of  reason, 
and  to  have  defined  with  much  accuracy  its  limitations  ;  he  nei- 
ther allows  it  too  much  scope,  nor  too  little ;  he  does  not  exalt 
it  above  revelation,  but  asserts  its  freedom  to  declare  for  itself 
what  revelation  is ;  he  sets  it  above  the  control  of  men,  but  still 
requires  its  submission  to  God.  Upon  this  point  I  have  been 
not  a  little  jealous.  I  have  been  afraid  lest  men  were  urging 
the  point  unwarrantably  far,  freeing  reason  from  all  restraint 
and  maintaining  its  all-sufficiency.  Now  it  would  require  all 
the  sound  judgment  and  discriminationof  Campbell  himself,  to 
follow  with  exactness  the  path  he  has  recommended,  and  there- 
fore only  few  can  arrive  at  the  degree  of  excellence  it  seems  to 
promise.  Still  it  is  apparent  that  if  all  would  follow  it  to  the 
utmost  of  their  abilities,  with  proper  seriousness,  humilit}^, 
discretion  and  perseverance,  they  might  attain  much  nearer 
the  correct  standard  than  in  any  other  way.  But  the  misfor- 
tune is,  few  have  discretion  to  know  and  stop  at  the  right 
point;  the  ardor  of  youth  urges  everything  to  extremes;  and, 
if  freed  from  all  restraint  of  man,  they  are  apt  to  become  con- 
ceited and  cold  rationalists.  Such,  I  am  afraid,  is  the  ten- 
dency of  our  Cambridge  students ;  they  study  religion  too  much 
as  a  science,  too  much  as  a  business  of  mere  grammar  and 
lexicon;  they  seem  to  regard  it  as  a  subject  to  be  reasoned 
upon,  to  exercise  their  ingenuity;  and  appear  almost  to  forget 
that  it  is  something  to  be  felt ;  while  they  sharpen  the  wits 
and  inform  the  head,  they  arc  not  careful  to  polish  the  heart, 
and  rectify  the  affections.     I  hope  that  I  say  too  much,  that  I 


JR.  59 

express  myself  too  strongly,  and  charity  obliges  me  to  think  I 
do.  Yet,  I  have  such  a  jealousy  and  dread  of  this  thing,  I 
feel  so  strongly  the  danger  of  this  tendency,  and  believe  I  have 
seen  so  plain  indications  of  what  I  have  mentioned,  that  I  can- 
not persuade  myself  I  am  altogether  wrong." 


CHAPTER   IV. 

SECOND  YEAR  AT  EXETER  — CONTINUATION  OF  CORRESPONDENCE 
WITH  HIS  FATHER— PROPOSES  TO  RELINQUISH  HIS  OFFICE  — FIRST 
APPEARANCE    IN    THE   PULPIT. 

1813-14.     ^T.  19-20. 

A  LONG  and  severe  illness  in  the  family  at  Cambridge 
put  a  stop  at  this  period  to  all  correspondence,  except 
that  which  related  to  it;  and  the  following  extracts 
from  letters  to  one  of  his  brothers  contam  the  only 
accounts  of  his  occupation  in  the  interval. 

"  July  29,  1813. 

"  I  believe  I  have  read  and  studied  a  good  deal  this  sum- 
mer ;  but,  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  I  do  not  feel  so  much  more 
learned,  as  I  thought  I  should.  What  a  misfortune  it  is  that 
the  knowledge  which  appears  so  vast  at  a  distance,  should  so 
dwindle  away  as  you  approach  it,  and  shrink  to  so  small  a 
thing  as  you  make  it  your  own.  You  think,  if  you  could 
stand  on  that  pinnacle  of  the  mountain,  you  should  feel  vastly 
above  your  present  height,  and  be  almost  contented  with  your 
elevation ;  but,  alas  !  when  you  get  there,  you  do  not  perceive 
that  you  are  raised,  so  much  still  remains  above  and  so  little 
below  you." 

«'  Oct.  9,  1813. 

"  And  now  allow  me  to  speak  of  myself.     I  am  studying 

pretty  diligently,  but  with  very  little  satisfaction  ;  for  I  find  my 

memory  grows  weaker  every  day,  and  I  cannot  call  to  mind, 

at  the  end  of  the  week,  the  contents  of  the  book  I  read  at  the 


JR.  61 

beginning.  This,  however,  may  be  partly  fancy  ;  I  hope  it  is, 
though  it  is  certainly  partly  true.  Let  me  say  at  least,  (though 
I  suppose  I  have  said  it  before,)  the  more  I  read,  the  more  I 
discover  my  outi  ignorance.  The  letting  knowledge  into  the 
mind  is  like  carrying  a  candle  into  some  vast  unexplored  cav- 
ern ;  while  you  stand  at  the  entrance,  you  do  not  imagine  its 
depths  to  be  very  great,  but,  as  you  go  forward,  it  opens,  and 
expands  on  every  side,  seeming  to  increase  its  dimensions  as 
you  proceed,  and  you  are  astonished  at  every  step  to  find  your- 
self still  far  from  the  end.  And  the  resemblance  holds  in  yet 
another  respect ;  as  the  candle  leaves  not  light  in  the  spots  it 
has  passed  over,  but  darkness  closes  upon  them,  so  the  traces 
of  knowledge  are  erased,  and  leave  no  monuments  to  show 
that  they  have  been,  except,  as  it  were,  a  few.  dim  candles, 
stuck  here  and  there  upon  the  sides  of  the  cave." 

His  original  engagement  at  Exeter  expired  with  the 
close  of  the  academic  year  in  August,  but  the  mutual 
satisfaction  which  existed  between  him  and  the  govern- 
ment of  the  institution,  rendered  his  continuance  in  his 
office  desirable  to  both  parties ;  and  he  accordingly 
decided  to  remain  in  it  for  another  year.  This  year, 
like  the  last,  furnishes  little  matter  of  record,  and  our 
account  of  it  must  be  confined  chiefly  to  selections  from 
his  correspondence. 

TO    HIS    FATHEll. 

"Oct.  16,  1S13. 
"  But  a  truce  with  trifling,  which  perhaps  is  not  very  intel- 
ligible. I  have  read  the  third  volume  of  Michaelis, — not  being 
able  to  get  the  first,  and  not  being  willing  to  read  the  second. 
I  opened  the  book  with  great  expectations,  and  was  disap- 
pointed. I  was  interested  in  what  he  has  written  concerning 
a  Harmony  ;  but,  for  the  rest,  I  expected  something  of  more 
importance  and  interest  than  the  discussion  of  dates,  and  the 
6 


62  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

■• 

balancing  of  probabilities.  I  was  disappointed  with  Lardner 
in  the  same  way ;  and  I  must  freely  confess,  that  I  find  the 
reading  of  this  kind  of  investigation  a  perfect  task.  It  has 
already  occasioned  me  several  evenings  of  labor,  from  which 
I  have  only  learnt  how  ingeniously  trifling  great  men  may 
sometimes  be ;  how  diligently  and  artfully  they  will  toil  to 
maintain  the  certainty  of  a  point,  which,  common  sense  at  once 
shows,  must  always  remain  doubtful;  how  they  will  twist  and 
turn,  and  even  run  counter  to  their  own  rules,  for  the  sake  of 
establishing  one  out  of  fifty  suppositions,  no  one  of  which  can 
bring  more  than  probability  in  its  support.  Beausobre  and 
L'Enfant  delighted  me ;  there  seems  to  be  nothing  unimpor- 
tant, nothing  superfluous  or  unnecessary,  either  in  matter  or 
words  ;  and  everything  is  so  neat,  that  it  engages  the  atten- 
tion closely,  and  may  be  read  without  weariness.  I  have 
read  besides  Taylor's  '  Scheme,'  and  Allix,  from  both  which  I 
believe  I  have  learned  considerable.  Dr.  Prideaux  is  too  dif- 
fuse, and  tells  his  story  most  tediously.  I  have  spent  some 
time  in  composition,  and  have  had  one  or  two  fits,  more  or  less 
severe,  of  the  poetic  mania, — from  which,  however,  I  have 
since  recovered,  and  am  now  perfectly  well." 

FROM   HIS    FATHER. 

"  Oct.  20,  1S13. 

"  You  will  find  the  first  volume  of  Michaelis  more  interest- 
ing; but  you  must  not  expect  entertainment,  in  the  com- 
mon sense  of  the  word,  in  dry  criticism.  The  second  vol- 
ume, it  seems,  was  too  forbidding  for  you  to  look  into; — well, 
it  is  not  a  book  to  be  read,  but  consulted,  and  at  the  proper 
time  you  will  look  even  into  that  volume  with  no  small 
interest. 

"  Taylor  and  Allix  were  well  worth  j'our  reading.  Taylor 
must  also  be  studied  ;  but,  if  you  have  learnt  much  from  Allix, 
you  have  probably  something  to  unlearn.  He  has  some  pleas- 
ant whims, —but  they  are  whims.     Some  of  his  opinions,  had 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  63 

he  lived  at  the  present  day,  he  would  not  have  held.  It  may- 
be said  of  him,  as  Eobinson  said  of  Calvin ;  '  He  knew  not  all 
thing's,  and  had  he  lived  later,  would  have  been  as  ready  to 
receive  farther  improvements,  as  he  was  to  adopt  those  of  the 
day  in  which  he  did  live.'  Prideaux  is  diffuse,—'  tedious,'  if 
you  please,— but  I  hardly  know  where  you  find  more  rare  and 
useful  information  within  the  same  compass,  than  in  his 
volumes. 

''  I  am  glad  you  have  got  well  of  the  poetic  mania ;  and 
that  you  have  exercised  yourself  some  in  sober  prose.  By  all 
means  practise  yourself  in  writing.  If  you  reluct,  bring  your- 
self down  to  it -by  resolute  self-command. 

"  You  seem  not  to  have  heard  of  the  hook  '^  which  engages 
all  the  attention  here  at  present;— Mr.  English's  apology  for 
leaving  his  profession.  You  will  have  heard  of  it,  however, 
before  you  receive  this, — for  it  will  pass  like  wildfire  through 
the  country ;  and  like  that  too  it  will  flash,  and  crackle,  and 
sparkle,  and  dazzle,  and  amaze  for  a  moment,  and  then  go  out, 
or  be  put  out,  and  all  will  be  as  quiet  as  before  ;  and,  as  soon 
as  the  first  meteoric  effect  is  over,  our  eyes  will  recover  them- 
selves, and  we  shall  see  things  as  clearly,  and  in  the  same 
light,  as  if  nothing  had  taken  place. 

"  I  shall  be  anxious  to  hear  how  the  book  strikes  you  and 
others,  before  its  natural  history  is  made  known.  This  will 
occasion  3'ou  as  much  surprise  at  least  as  the  book  itself." 

*  The  hook  here  alluded  to  was,  "  The  Grounds  of  Christianity  examined  by- 
comparing'  the  New  Testament  with  the  Old  ;  by  George  B.  English."  Mr. 
English  had  studied  divinity  at  Cambridge,  and  had  been  for  a  short  time  a 
preacher.  The  materials,  and  much  of  the  detail  of  his  work,  were  drawn 
from  English  deistical  writers  of  the  last  century.  It  excited  much  attention 
for  a  time,  but  was  speedily  forgotten.  It  was  answered  briefly  by  Mr.  Cary, 
colleague  pastor  with  Dr.  Freeman,  of  the  Stone  Chapel,  and  more  fully  by 
Mr.  Everett,  at  that  time  minister  of  the  Church  in  Brattle  Square. 


66  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,  JR. 

abstracts  would  always  be  valuable,  as  indexes  to  bring  to 
your  recollection  important  thoughts  and  views  on  interesting 
subjects;  and  your  own  original  plans  would  be  a  valuable 
resource  to  repair  to  whenever  you  should  have  occasion  to 
complete  a  discourse  on  any  of  the  subjects  of  them. 

"  I  think  the  following  a  good  plan  of  an  abstract : 

"  1.  Take  down  the  general  heads  of  the  discourse,  by 
marking  the  numbers  in  the  middle  of  the  page. 

"  2.  The  particular  heads,  by  marking  them  in  the  side 
margin. 

"3.  As  many  particular  thoughts  under  each  as  you 
choose,  marking  and  numbering  them  half  an  inch  forward  in 
the  line,  or  against  the  head  to  which  they  belong,  inclosed  by 
a  brace. 

"  Specimen. 

"  Rom.  xiv.  29.—'  Let  us,  therefore,  follow  after  the  things 
which  make  for  peace.' 

I. 

*'  Consider  what  is  due  from  us  to  the  church  in  order  to 
peace. 

"  1.  Every  member  of  the  church  is  bound  to  external 
communion  with  it. 

"  2.  Every  member  is  bound  to  join  in  communion  with 
the  church  established  where  he  lives,  if  the  terms  of  commu- 
nion be  lawful. 

"  3.  Every  member  is  obliged  to  submit  to  all  the  laws  and 
constitutions  of  the  church. 

!"  1.    As  to  the  orderly  performance  of  worship. 
"  2.    As  to  the  maintaining  of  peace  and  unity. 
"  4.    Nothing  but  unlawful  terms  of  communion  can  justify 
a  separation. 

"  5.  Hence,  neither  unscriptural  impositions, — nor  errors, 
nor  corruptions  in  doctrine  or  practice,  while  suffered  only,  not 
imposed, — nor,  lastly,  the  pretence  of  better  edification,  can 
justify  separation. 


JK.  67 

II. 

"  Consider  what  is  due  from  us  to  particular  Christians  in 
order  to  peace. 

"  1.  In  matters  of  opinion  to  give  every  man  leave  to  judge 
for  himself. 

"  2.    To  lay  aside  all  prejudice  in  the  search  after  truth. 

"  3.    Not  to  quarrel  about  words. 

"  4.  Not  to  charge  men  with  all  the  consequences  deducible 
from  their  opinions. 

"  5.    To  abstract  men's  persons  from  their  opinions. 

"  6.    That  we  vigorously  pursue  holiness. 

III. 

"  Motives  to  the  duty  laid  down. 
*'  1.    From  the  nature  of  our  religion. 
"  2.    From  the  precepts  of  Scripture. 
"  3.    From  the  unreasonableness  of  our  differences. 

1.  To  virtue. 

2.  To  the  civil  state. 

3.  Christianity. 
.  4.  The  Protestant  religion. 

"  You  may  thus  have  in  a  very  small  compass,  to  be  seen 
at  a  single  glance,  what  Avill  bring  to  your  recollection  all  you 
wish  to  remember  of  a  sermon. 

"  I  have  given  this  example,  not  for  the  sentiment, — which, 
perhaps,  is  not  exactly  correct  in  every  respect,  though  it  is  in 
the  main, — ^but  because  I  had  the  analysis  ready  prepared,  and 
it  is  a  good  example  of  the  manner." 

The  occasion  of  the  last  letter,  or  what  suggested  it, 
does  not  appear.  The  plan  here  laid  down  was  that 
which  my  brother  adopted  and  essentially  followed 
through  life.  Probably  at  this  period  it  had  consider- 
able influence  in  directing  his  attention  to  the  advan- 
tages of  a  clear  method  in  the  writing  of  sermons,  and 


"  4.  From  their  ill  consequences. 


68  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

of  acquiring  a  habit  of  systematically  arranging  his 
thoughts  when  composing  them.  This  mode  of  pro- 
cedure became  also  his  usual  practice  with  regard  to 
everything  he  wrote.  He  seldom  began  a  composition 
of  any  importance  with  a  merely  general  idea  of  what 
he  meant  to  say,  and  of  the  order  in  which  he  was  to 
say  it.  He  endeavored  to  see  his  way  through  his 
subject  before  he  began  to  write,  and  sketched  out  very 
distinctly  the  larger  divisions,  and  frequently  the  sub- 
divisions, and  even  hints  of  particular  thoughts  and 
illustrations.  It  was  his  habit,  also,  whenever  his  atten- 
tion was  directed  to  a  subject  with  especial  interest,  to 
give  a  body  and  form  to  his  thoughts  by  laying  them 
out  in  an  orderly  manner,  as  if  he  were  about  to  write 
upon  it  at  length.  This  contributed,  unquestionably, 
very  much  to  give  clearness,  unity,  and  due  proportion 
of  parts  to  his  writings,  although  their  actual  divisions 
were  not  always  apparent ;  as  the  skeleton  gives  sta- 
bility and  symmetry  to  the  fabric  of  the  body,  but  does 
not  deform  it  by  thrusting  its  rough  and  ungainly  pro- 
jections above  the  surface. 

to  his  father. 

"Jan.  29,  1814. 
"  I  like  the  plan  you  sent  me  very  much,  and  I  think  I  shall 
undoubtedly  make  it  useful.  From  reading  a  sermon  of  Blair's 
to-day,  I  find,  however,  it  will  require  more  attention  and 
judgment  than  I  at  first  anticipated.  Although  he  has  regu- 
larly divided  his  discourse  into  its  parts,  a  much  more  complete 
and  careful  division  would  be  necessary  to  a  proper  sketch  of 
its  matter  and  design ;  and  it  is  a  business  of  no  small  nicety 
to  separate  the  leading  ideas,  and  state  them  in  language  so 
accurate  and  comprehensive  as  to  place  the  full  scope  in  a  clear 
view  before  you.     Much  doubtless  will  be  learnt  by  practice  ; 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  69 

and  I  hope  to  acquire  a  facility  of  analysis,  which  will  be  of 
no  small  service  to  me,  and  of  some  advantage  in  all  my 
reading  and  studies  ;  as  it  will  give  a  habit  of  reading  with  a 
particular  attention  to  the  main  design,  and  to  the  manner  in 
which  all  the  parts  are  made  subservient  to  it.  There  are 
many  sermons,  however,  and  probably  not  a  few  of  the  best, 
which  were  written  without  any  preconcerted  plan,  and  which 
it  would  be  next  to  impossible  to  divide  into  parts  as  you 
recommend.  They  are  rather  general  and  random,  though 
fine,  remarks  on  some  given  subject,  (like  Miss  H.  More's 
'  Practical  Piety,')  of  which,  as  they  seem  to  aim  at  no  given 
end,  so  we  cannot  discover  the  method  or  order,  or  discern  on 
what  principle  their  succession  depends.  But  you  would 
probably  say,  these  are  no  models  ;  and,  if  so,  I  need  not  ask 
what  I  intended,  how  I  should  manage  to  make  a  sketch  of 
them. 

"  You  make  the  plan  of  a  discourse  of  more  consequence 
than  I  thought  was  done  by  any  one ;  and,  from  the  manner 
in  which  you  speak,  one  would  be  apt  to  imagine  that  the 
effect  of  a  sermon  depends  more  upon  the  arrangement  of  its 
parts,  than  the  care  and  force  with  which  those  parts  are 
written.  In  giving  rules  for  a  composition  which  is  required 
to  be  critically  perfect,  this  is  certainly  of  the  highest  impor- 
tance ;  but  is  a  sermon  such  ?  Does  not  more  of  its  effect 
depend  on  the  skill  with  which  any  topic  is  wrought  up,  on 
striking  passages,  than  on  the  general  connexion  of  the  whole  ? 
True,  even  allowing  this,  a  fine  passage  will  fail  of  its  effect, 
if  its  connexion  and  dependence  on  the  main  subject  be  not 
discernible.  But  I  mean,  if  we  lay  out  the  plan,  and  arrange 
the  ideas  so  thoroughly  before  we  write  the  parts,  shall  we  not 
leave  too  little  room  for  that  free  play  and  range  of  thought 
and  imagination,  which  give  a  glow  and  fascination  that  nothing 
else  can  give  ?  Do  we  not  cramp  and  confine  the  mind  too 
much  by  determining  its  course  and  limiting  its  excursions  so 
exactly  ?  and,  especially,  will  not  that  warmth  and  animation 


70  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

be  wanting,  which  we  always  find  greatest  when  we  write  on 
a  subject  fresh  and  newly  started  in  the  mind  ?  I  suppose, 
however,  that  here  you  would  give,  and  I  should  certainly 
take,  a  discretionary  power  of  making  alterations  in  the  given 
plan,  whenever,  in  the  warmth  of  composition,  the  course  of. 
thought  took  an  unexpected  turn,  and  led  to  pertinent  dis- 
cussions which  had  not  been  foreseen.  Surely,  however  good 
the  original  plan,  a  part  of  it  should  be  sacrificed  in  such  a  case  ; 
and  the  sacrifice  would  be  abundantly  compensated  by  the 
chance  of  giving  something  new  and  interesting,  instead  of 
what  would  probably  be  written  in  a  dry  and  lifeless  manner, 
because  written  by  force,  and  by  opposing  the  natural  current 
of  ideas. 

"  Upon  looking  over  what  I  have  \\Titten,  I  find  I  have  tried 
to  make  some  small  objection  to  your  scheme,  or  to  point  out 
some  imperfection  in  it,  but  without  success  ;  and,  if  I  have 
made  myself  intelligible,  I  believe  I  have  said  nothing  which 
you  will  not  immediately  admit,  or  indeed  which  is  not  a 
truism,  necessarily  implied  in  what  you  wrote." 

to  his  brother  john. 

"  Feb.  6,  1814. 
"  Dr.  Spring  preached  here  last  Sunday ;  and,  as  I  may 
not  have  an  opportunity  again,  I  will  give  you  a  specimen  of 
his  discourse.  Perhaps,  said  he,  the  men  of  the  world  cannot 
conceive  of  a  parent's  feeling  perfectl}^  satisfied  (that  was 
the  expression)  at  the  sight  of  his  son  suspended  from  the 
gallows  as  a  punishment  for  his  crimes, — but  so  the  Christian 
is ;  and  he  intimated,  that  he  was  not  only  so,  but  highly 
pleased.  He  added,  that  the  sight  of  sinners  in  torment  was 
unquestionably  to  be  one  source  of  the  happiness  of  good  men 
in  another  life.  This,  one  of  his  hearers  said,  was  making 
you  very  amiable  saints." 


LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  71 

to  the  same. 

"Feb.  12,  1814. 

"  I  believe  I  wrote  you  a  shabby  letter  last  week ;  I  hope 
never  to  do  so  again.  I  wish  I  could  have  received  an  answer 
before  now ;  but,  as  you  have  not  seen  fit  to  gratify  me,  I  sit 
down  to  scrawl  a  little  against  time  of  need.  One  never  feels 
so  much  the  need  of  a  friend's  letters,  or  so  much  feels  a  dispo- 
sition to  write  to  a  friend,  as  when  one  is  in  a  serious  mood, 
bordering  a  little  perhaps  on  the  melancholy, — or,  at  least, 
more  than  usually  troubled  with  thought  and  reflection.  I  have 
been  just  so  for  a  few  days,  and  have  longed  if  possible  to 
pour  myself  out  to  you.  I  have  been  thinking  of  my  profes- 
sion, musing  upon  its  vast  importance  and  tremendous  respon- 
sibility, and,  above  all,  its  difficulties,  which  seem  to  increase 
in  number  and  magnitude  the  nearer  I  survey  it.  Not  that  I 
have  ever  been  thoughtless  or  indifferent  to  these  things  ;  but 
you  know  there  are  seasons,  when  the  mind  acts  with  more 
than  wonted  vigor,  and  the  feelings  are  impressed  with  unusual 
force ;  when  the  soul  seems  to  turn  back  into  itself,  and  become 
the  object  of  its  own  contemplations.  O  !  there  is  a  happiness 
in  such  periods,  which  no  words  can  express  ;  and,  though  a 
mind  that  should  be  constantly,  unceasingly  in  such  a  frame, 
would  unfit  the  man  for  the  active  exertions  which  life  requires, 
yet  such  a  season  occasionally  returning  is  invaluable  ;  the 
soul  seems  to  come  from  it  cleansed  and  purified,  with  all  its 
worldly  contamination  removed,  and  with  spirits  fresh  and 
wholesome. 

"  I  have  been  led  into  this  frame  by  reading  a  beautiful 
biography  of  Spencer,  an  English  clergyman ;  the  effect  of 
which  was  probably  heightened  at  this  time  by  the  interest  I 
have  been  taking  in  Everett's  ordination.  It  would  be  impos- 
sible to  contemplate  two  such  men,  of  my  ow^n  age,  entering 
the  ministry,  without  feeling  deeply  affected,  and  having  the 
mind  filled  with  an  awful  enthusiasm.     Spencer  was  one  of 


72  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

the  wonders  of  the  age.  From  his  very  childhood  he  had  had 
a  strong  attachment  for  the  ministry,  and  loved  nothing  so 
much  as  preachers  and  preaching.  He  preached  first  at  the 
age  of  seventeen,  and  was  settled  at  Liverpool  at  twenty;  he 
died  suddenly  about  three  months  after  his  ordination.  He 
was  an  enthusiast  of  the  first  and  purest  order.  His  whole 
soul,  all  his  powers  of  intellect  and  feeling,  were  devoted 
entirely  to  his  profession ;  these  gave  him  a  wonderful  success 
and  unbounded  popularity ;  perhaps  not  even  Whitefield  was 
more  eagerly  sought  after.  He  preached  without  notes,  and 
his  discourses  were  usually  upwards  of  an  hour  in  length. 
But  you  must  get  the  book  and  read  for  yourself;  and,  though 
I  cannot  expect  you  to  feel  as  I  have  done,  I  think  your 
sober  judgment  must  concur  with  me  in  my  admiration, 
if  not  in  its  degree.  So  pure,  so  interesting  a  character,  of 
such  strict  propriety  and  correctness,  and  so  humble  with  all 
its  greatness,  I  never  heard  of;  and  my  first  wish  is,  that  I 
may  be  like  him,  as  far  as  is  possible,  in  everything  that  is 
pure,  lovely,  and  of  good  report.  Some  things  there  are, 
indeed,  which  I  would  not  wish  to  follow ;  still,  not  to  long 
for  his  eminent  excellences  would  betray  a  want  of  feeling  and 
goodness.  The  secret  of  his  eloquence  undoubtedly  lay  in  his 
enthusiasm,  understanding  the  word  in  a  good  sense ;  and 
that  none  can  hope  to  rival,  who  have  not  a  heart  as  finely 
framed  as  his, — the  same  warmth,  ardor,  and  sensibility. 
Much,  too,  of  his  animation  and  eflTect  must  be  attributed  to 
his  extempore  speaking,  which  gives  a  liveliness,  an  energy, 
a  glow  to  eloquence,  that  is  not  otherwise  attained. 

"  I  have  really  begun  to  consider  seriously,  whether  I  shall 
not  attempt  learning  the  art.  I  do  not  mean  for  constant  prac- 
tice ;  but  some  subjects  may  be  much  better  treated  by  extem- 
pore discourse  than  by  written  ;  and  much  of  the  illustration 
and  exhortation  of  every  sermon  might  be  left  for  the  manage- 
ment of  the  moment.  It  is  unquestionable,  that  there  is  a  life, 
a  soul,  as  it  were,  transfused  mto  unpremeditated  expressions, 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  73 

which  appeals  with  far  greater  force  to  the  sympathy  of  hear- 
ers, than  anything  which  can  be  written.  There  is  a  je  ne  sais 
quoi  in  the  countenance,  the  tones  of  voice,  the  gesture,  which 
goes  directly  to  the  heart,  and  which  you  in  vain  try  to  give 
to  a  written  production.  Animated  declamation,  even  if  it  be 
rather  flat  sense,  will  be  more  effectual,  than  the  most  elabo- 
rate composition  read  in  the  usual  way ;  and  accordingly  w^e 
find,  that  the  sermons  of  celebrated  extempore  preachers  are 
scarcely  worth  reading.  Dugald  Stewart,  in  his  '  Essays,' 
intimates,  you  may  remember,  that  the  art  may  be  acquired  by 
any  one ;  and,  if  I  could  obtain  it,  what  a  saving  of  time  there 
would  be ! 

"  I  have  been  engaged  for  a  few  evenings  in  writing  a 
discourse  on  Profanity,  to  read  in  the  Academy  to-morrow. 
Wish  me  success." 

from  his  father. 

"  Feb.  28,  1814. 
"  I  read  your  letter  to  John,  which  he  received  last  week ; 
and,  though  neither  enthusiasm,  nor  the  love  of  enthusiasm,  is 
a  very  distinguishing  trait  in  my  character,  I  am  not  displeased 
to  see  some  of  it  in  you.  It  is  of  use  to  have  such  an  example 
presented  to  excite  emulation,  as  that  which  you  meet  with  in 
the  life  of  Spencer  ;  still,  however,  they  are  to  be  contemplated 
and  followed  with  caution.  Every  real  excellence  is  not  to  be 
attempted  by  every  person;  and  it  is  neither  a  reproach,  nor 
ought  it  to  be  a  discouragement,  to  any  one,  that  in  some  very 
peculiar  and  exalted  character  there  are  traits  to  which  he 
cannot  aspire.  One,  who  has  quickness  of  mind  and  self-pos- 
session enough  for  the  purpose,  may  doubtless  become  a  more 
popular  speaker  without  writing  than  with  ;  but  I  much  doubt, 
whether  any  man  could  become  so  useful  a  minister.  And 
you  are  totally  mistaken  in  the  imagination,  that  time  would 
be  saved  except  by  the  loss  of  that  which  were  more  than  an 
equivalent.  He  who  aspires  to  a  respectable  kind  of  popularity 
7 


74  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

by  extempore  preaching,  must  not  be  sparing  in  labor  to  pre- 
pare himself  for  it.  Not  only  must  his  general  cultivation  and 
particular  preparation  be  great ;  he  must  also  be  always 
wrought  up  at  the  time  of  appearing  in  public  to  a  high  degree 
of  excitement.  Besides,  the  best  of  what  are  pressed  upon  the 
world  for  extempore  effusions,  are  in  a  great  degree,  i^  not 
wholly,  memoriter  productions. 

"  I  would  not  discourage,  by  any  means,  the  cultivation  of 
the  talent  for  extempore  speaking ;  it  is  of  great  importance  to 
exalt  it  to  as  high  perfection  as  you  are  capable  of;  and  it  is 
doubtless  too  much  neglected.  But,  as  far  as  my  observation 
has  extended,  I  should  think  that  the  attainment  of  any  con- 
siderable degree  of  excellence  or  usefulness  in  it  could  not  be 
general  or  very  common. 

"  Looking  over  the  first  part  of  this  letter,  I  find  it  to  be  not 
exactly  what  I  intended.  It  is  too  general,  vague,  indefinite. 
It  may,  however,  do  for  hints;  and  you  will  discriminate, 
where  I  have  not.  Continue  to  indulge  and  cherish  the  glow 
of  virtuous  feeling ;  there  is  no  danger  from  it  where  the  intel- 
lect is  also  cultivated  pari  passu.  If  your  understanding  is 
enlightened,  there  is  no  danger  of  feeling  too  much." 

The  person  of  whom  the  following  letter  contains  a 
notice,  was  a  son  of  Dr.  Abbot,  the  Principal  of  the 
Academy,  a  young  man  of  rare  qualifications  for  his 
profession,  and  one  who  filled,  whilst  he  lived,  a  large 
place  in  the  hopes  of  the  religious  community.  Of 
my  brother's  subsequent  intimacy  with  him,  and  the 
very  high  regard  in  which  he  always  held  him,  there 
will  be  occasion  to  speak  hereafter. 

to  his  father. 

"  Feb.  2S,  1814. 
"  I   expect  to   send   this   letter   by   Mr.  J.  E.  Abbot.     He 
preached  here  on  Sunday,  and  gave,  I  believe,  universal  plea- 


LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  75 

sure.  His  sermons  glowed  with  the  amiableness  of  his  dispo- 
sition, and  all  the  pure  feelings  of  his  heart.  They  rather 
produced  a  general  tranquillity  of  feeling  than  any  distinct 
impression ;  they  soothed  and  calmed  the  mind  into  a  placid, 
serene  temper ;  there  was  nothing  to  excite  or  exhilarate.  He 
appears  to  have  studied  simplicity,  and  carefully  avoids  all 
ambitious  display.  He  delights  to  speak  of  the  meek,  peace- 
able character  of  the  gospel ;  he  dwells  much  upon  the  charac- 
ters of  God  and  the  Saviour ;  he  returns  to  them  often,  and 
seems  loath  to  quit  them.  To  such  discourses  his  manner  is 
not  ill-fitted ;  the  tones  of  his  voice  are  interesting,  and  keep 
the  attention  alive,  and  they  do  not  require  much  energy  in 
the  delivery.  Lamson  has  suggested  a  reason  why  they  did 
not  give  more  an  impression  of  talents ;  they  speak  so  much 
of  what  is  amiable  and  lovely,  that  the  mind  of  the  hearer  is 
tranquillized,  and  so  totally  dissolved  in  the  gentle  feelings  he 
excites,  that  everything  exterior  is  forgotten,  and  he  does  not 
remember  to  criticise  or  admire.  This,  I  think,  is  a  true 
account  of  .the  matter ;  and  it  gives  a  pleasing  specimen  of  Mr. 
L.'s  talent  of  criticism  and  philosophical  investigation. 

"  I  am  engaged  now,  as  I  suppose  you  know,  in  Ecclesiasti- 
cal History.  I  have  read  and  pretty  carefully  studied  two 
volumes  of  Mosheim,  and  all  Gregory.  But  I  find,  that,  after 
all  the  labor  I  have  spent,  upon  what  has  certainly  no  very 
great  charms  of  interest,  I  must  expect  to  retain  but  very  little 
of  it ;  it  slips  from  the  memory  almost  as  soon  as  it  enters,  and 
I  find  myself  as  unknowing  as  before.  I  am  somewhat  com- 
forted for  this,  from  hearing  J.  Abbot  make  the  same  remark 
with  respect  to  himself.  It  is  said  somewhere,  that  things 
enter  and  are  retained  in  the  memory  by  means  of  the  imagi- 
nation. If  this  be  true,  it  will  account  for  the  slippery  nature 
of  church  history.  There  is  nothmg  to  stick  to  the  fancy, 
— no  entertainment,— no  interest.  Some  strange  notions  and 
practices,  indeed,  excite  our  curiosity;  but,  when  that  is 
gratified,  they  pass  through  the  mind  and  are  forgotten.     Most 


76  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

of  the  other  matters  excite  only  disgust^  which  the  memory  is 
not  willing  to  nourish  and  keep  alive.  Or,  if  some  few  inter- 
est the  feelings,  the  train  of  events  is  so  short,  that  we  have 
but  little  aid  from  association,  and  the  impression  is  only  weak 
and  transient.  All  I  hope;  is  to  have  a  faint,  glimmering  view 
of  the  outline  of  events,  and  here  and  there  an  isolated  fact. 
Of  the  first  four  centuries  I  have  endeavored  to  treasure  up  the 
history  of  opinions,  and  eminent  men,  and  the  progress  of 
corruption ;  but  the  following  ages,  as  they  passed  in  darkness, 
I  am  willing  should  remain  so.  It  is  too  late  to  change  their 
complexion ;  and  the  little  light  we  can  throw  upon  them  from 
this  distance,  serves  only  to  make  their  darkness  visible. 

"  Besides  this,  my  reading  has  been,  some  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment ;  some  in  the  Greek  New,  (of  which  I  never  condescended 
to  peruse  the  translation,  for  it  passes  through  my  mind  with 
less  impression,  and  in  it  I  do  not  so  readily  and  clearly 
discover  the  force  of  reasoning,  &c.) ;  two  volumes,  12mo. ; 
besides  other  miscellaneous.  I  have  copied  sketches  of  ser- 
mons, as  you  recommended,  and  written  one.  Thus  you  have 
the  amount  of  my  labor." 

FROM   HIS    FATHER. 

"  Feb.  1S14. 
"  I  have  not  yet  heard  Mr.  John  E.  Abbot  preach,  but  have 
heard  highly  favorable  reports  from  those  who  have.  He  is 
spoken  of  as  I  should  expect,  as  very  interesting  and  impres- 
sive. You  will  have  the  advantage  of  entering  into  life  with 
a  set  of  young  men  of  your  own  standing,  in  the  same  pro- 
fession which  you  have  chosen,  who  will  carry  with  them  as 
much  talents,  learning,  piety,  study,  respectability  of  character, 
and  resolution  to  do  good  in  the  world, — I  will  venture  to  say, 
—  as  ever  came  on  the  stage  in  this  country  at  one  time.  The 
present  prevailing  taste  in  students  for  the  critical  study  of  the 
Scriptures  will  constitute  an  era  in  the  theological  character 
of  our  ministers;  it  will  continue  and  gradually  produce  great 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  77 

changes, — I  hope,  more  just  views,  and  at  the  same  time  more 
of  the  Christian  temper.  I  hope,  that  what  constitutes  true 
liberaHty  will  be  better  understood  and  better  practised,  that 
the  style  of  preaching  will  be  more  scriptural,  serious,  practi- 
cal, and  that,  the  true  nature  and  design  of  the  gospel  being 
better  understood,  they  will  be  kept  more  constantly  in  view. 
You  have  great  excitements  to  exertion,  and  your  mind  I  trust 
is  taking  a  right  direction." 

to  his  sister. 

"  Feb.  23,  1814. 
"  Dear  Harriet, 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  John  last  week,  in  which  he  told  me 
that  he  had  been  to  Hingham,  and  had  had  a  very  pleasant 
visit.  He  told  me,  too,  how  pleasantly  you  were  situated,  and 
how  happy  you  seemed  to  be.  You  may  be  sure  I  was  very 
glad  to  hear  this ;  for  I  take  a  deep  interest  in  your  welfare, 
and  in  whatever  is  preparing  you  to  be  a  useful,  amiable 
woman.  No  doubt,  you  feel  thankful,  as  you  ought,  for 
the  blessings  which  surround  you,  and  are  sensible  of  your 
obligations  to  improve  your  great  privileges.  Your  advantages 
for  improvement  are  very  great ;  and,  as  they  are  made  easy 
and  pleasant  to  you,  you  ought  to  use  the  utmost  diligence 
and  exertion  to  make  the  most  of  the  golden  opportunity  ;  the 
season  of  youth  will  not  last  forever ;  and  middle  life  and  old 
age  can  neither  be  happy  nor  respectable,  unless  youth  is  im- 
proved. When  you  grow  older,  you  will  have  less  time  to 
devote  to  the  cultivation  of  your  mind ;  but  you  will  have  a 
good  deal  of  time  for  thought  and  reflection,  in  which  the  ideas 
and  knowledge  you  acquired  in  youth  will  be  vastly  important 
to  you ;  and,  if  you  have  not  a  good  deal  laid  up  beforehand, 
how  barren  will  be  your  mind,  how  unprofitable  your  medita- 
tions !  Besides,  as  you  will  feel  the  want  of  information,  both 
to  supply  you  with  matter  for  thought,  and  for  conversation, 
7* 


78  LIFE   OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

you  will  look  back  with  exceeding  remorse  and  sorrow  on  the 
valuable  moments  you  wasted  in  youth ;  and  you  will  wish 
that  you  could  live  them  over  again,  that  you  might  spend  them 
better.  Improve,  then,  every  privilege  you  enjoy ;  collect  now  a 
fund  of  useful  knowledge  and  innocent  amusement,  which  may 
remain  in  your  memory,  and  entertain  you  in  future  times. 
But  above  all,  my  dear  girl,  remember  how  valuable  and 
necessary  is  a  good,  pleasant,  amiable  temper.  Be  care- 
ful to  form  good  habits,  and  so  obtain  a  good  character.  You 
have  excellent  models  around  you; — imitate  them  in  every- 
thing that  is  pure  and  lovely.  If  you  see  anything  in  any  of 
your  companions  particularly  agreeable  and  lovely,  try  to  copy 
it.  And,  if  you  find  anything  disagreeable,  examine  whether 
there  be  not  something  like  it  in  yourself,  and  correct  and 
avoid  it  for  the  future.  In  this  way,  you  will  become  as 
amiable  and  lovely  as  any  one  could  desire.  And  especially 
never  forget  your  Bible  and  your  God ;  you  know  your  busi- 
ness is  as  much  to  prepare  yourself  for  another  world,  as  to 
become  useful  in  this." 

Toward  the  close  of  the  second  term  of  this  year,  he 
became  strongly  desirous  of  relinquishing  his  connexion 
with  the  Academy  and'returning  to  Cambridge. 

to  his  father. 

"  April  1,  1814. 
"  I  believe  I  have  hinted  to  you,  that  I  begin  to  be  weary  of 
Exeter.  I  wish  now  to  let  you  know  exactly  how  matters 
stand ;  for  it  is  my  settled  determination,  if  possible,  to  throw 
up  my  connexions  at  the  end  of  this  term,  to  retire  from  my 
elevated  station  to  the  sober  tranquillity  of  private  life.  I 
must  have  very  much  mistaken  my  talents,  if  ever  I  imagined 
myself  fit  for  an  instructor.  I  have  expressed  my  doubts  to 
you  before,  particularly  once,  I  recollect,  during  the  last  vaca- 
tion.    I  -have  taken  particular  pains  to  examine  myself  this 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR.  79 

term ;  to  compare  what  I  do  with  what  I  think  I  ought  to  do ; 
to  compare  the  progress  of  my  classes  with  those  taught  by  the 
Preceptor,  and  my  discipline  with  his ;  the  result  is  little  to  my 
honor,  and  still  less  to  my  satisfaction.  I  am  convinced  I  have 
but  little,  scarcely  any,  faculty  of  teaching;  that  I  am  a  real 
injury  to  the  Academy,  as  I  occupy  the  place  of  another,  whose 
endeavors  would  be  more  successful  and  useful,  if  not  more 
faithful  and  constant.  I  do  not  accuse  myself  of  want  of 
fidelity ;  I  believe  the  deficiency  is  in  the  original  cast  of  my 
character ;  which  I  have  endeavored  in  vain  to  remedy.  I 
have  not  energy  or  uniformity  enough  for  my  station,  and  I 
have  been  unable  to  obtain  them.  Can  I  then  conscientiously 
keep  a  place,  the  duties  of  v/hich  I  am  unable  to  perform  ? 
Ought  I  not  immediately  to  leave  a  situation  in  which  I  believe 
myself  to  be  doing  hurt  rather  than  good  ?  Ought  I  to  encum- 
ber an  office  which  perhaps  many  a  deserving  young  man  is 
ready  to  fill,  who  needs  its  profits,  and  is  competent  to  its 
duties  ?  I  expected  to  improve,  or  I  would  not  have  engaged 
myself  for  another  year.  Of  improvement,  I  have  given  up 
even  the  most  distant  hope  ;  and  I  feel  ashamed  to  meet  Dr. 
Abbot,  and  live  so  kindly  and  familiarly  with  him,  while  -I  am 
conscious  how  ill  I  am  serving  him. 

"  But,  besides  this,  I  feel  anxious  to  progress  in  my  profes- 
sion, and  I  feel  that  I  am  losing  time  here.  To  be  sure,  I  am 
young  enough  to  delay  yet  for  some  time  ;  and  were  I  satisfied 
with  my  doings  here,  I  should  think  nothing  of  this  ;  because 
I  know  the  inconvenience  you  must  suflfer  from  my  being 
with  you,  and  dependent  on  you  for  support.  But  it  is  natural 
that  I  should  wish  to  commence  that  which  is  to  be  my  pur- 
suit through  life.  It  is  plain  that  little  time  can  be  given  to 
my  studies  here.  Seven  hours  in  the  Academy  are  seven 
hours  of  severe  mental  toil,  and  require  a  proportionate  relax- 
ation. This  leaves  not  much  to  myself.  If  I  apply  myself 
two  evenings  successively  without  interruption,  I  become  har- 
assed and  debilitated,  unfit  to  labor  either  at  home  or  in 


80 


school.  Hence,  I  must  pass  part  of  every  evening  abroad,  and 
accidental  circumstances  will  not  unfrequently  make  a  whole 
evening  necessary.  This  makes  my  mind  giddy,  unsettles  it, 
deranges  its  ideas ;  and  so,  much  of  the  profit  of  study  is  lost. 
Deduct  all  this,  and  how  much  will  remain  for  steady  appli- 
cation ? 

"  I  think,  too,  my  habits  of  study  have  been  injured  from 
another  cause.  In  the  daily  routine  of  business,  one  object 
follows  another  in  quick  succession.  I  am  now  reading  of  the 
sack  of  Troy,  now  a  chapter  of  the  New  Testament,  and  now 
one  of  E  sop's  Fables ;  and  besides  this  constant  change  of  the 
attention  from  one  object  to  another,  it  is  momentarily  called 
off  to  the  persons  and  things  around  me ;  thus  it  is  in  a 
perpetual  state  of  fluctuation,  and  cannot  fix  for  any  length 
of  time  upon  any  one  thing.  In  this  way  I  find  a  habit  of 
mind  has  been  formed ;  for  I  cannot  without  the  greatest  effort 
confine  my  attention,  when  I  am  studying,  to  any  single  sub- 
ject. I  soon  grow  weary,  and  am  compelled  to  change  my 
occupation  frequently ;  and,  even  during  the  little  time  I  am 
able  to  devote  to  the  same  subject,  I  am  perpetually  called 
away  by  trifles,  and  have  my  train  of  ideas  broken  and  scat- 
tered by  the  most  unimportant  accident.  This,  to  a  student, 
is  a  great  evil ;  for  that  man  only  can  make  progress  and  rise 
to  eminence  who  has  his  mind  perfectly  under  his  control,  and 
can  at  any  time  muster  its  scattered  powers,  and  direct  its 
efforts  without  interruption  or  weariness  to  whatever  subject 
he  pleases.  Without  this  command  of  the  thoughts,  this 
power  of  continued  attention,  his  mind  must  bear  a  trifling 
character,  and  be  incapable  of  extraordinary  exertion,  or  of 
producing  great  effects. 

"  E has  preached  here,  and  left  those  feelings  behind 

him  which  might  have  been  expected.  His  eloquence  com- 
pletely entranced  his  audience ;  in  the  forenoon  he  drew  tears 
from  many  an  eye,  and  in  the  afternoon  he  led  us  as  one  man 
on  a  crusade.     Still  they  think  he  is  too  rich  for  common  use, 


JR.  81 

and  would  prefer  A .     Miss  E- gives  as  a  reason  for 

this  preference :  '  One  seems  more  like  a  dying  man  speaking 
to  dying  men  ;  the  other,  like  some  superior  intelligence,  dis- 
coursing to  mortals  of  what  they  ought  to  feel  and  know,  but  as 
if  himself  were  too  far  exalted  to  require  such  feelings  or  such 
knowledge.' 

"  One  copy  of  Buckminster's  '  Sermons'  has  been  received 
in  town.  Dr.  Abbot  expressed  the  most  unbounded  admira- 
tion. They  were  read  aloud  to  a  number  of  persons,  who 
were  almost  silent  in  their  praise,  because  they  could  find  no 
words  to  express  themselves." 

from  his  father. 

"  April  9, 1814. 

"  Your  letter,  my  dear  Henry,  which  I  have  just  now 
received  from  the  office,  is  written  with  so  much  attention, 
care,  and  apparent  deliberation,  that  I  am  precluded  from  ask- 
ing you,  whether  it  was  not  the  dictate  of  some  momentary 
feeling,  and  the  effect  of  something  incidental.  It  seems  to 
express  a  deliberate  determination,  and  I  must  so  consider  it. 
Nor  will  it  probably  be  to  any  purpose,  as  I  am  entirely  unac- 
quainted with  the  particulars  which  have  given  the  impres- 
sions under  which  you  have  come  to  your  present  decision,  to 
say  anything  on  the  probability,  that  you  may  have  allowed 
your  feelings  too  much  to  influence  your  judgment,  and  a  mor- 
bid irritability  to  give  you  more  sombre  views  and  gloomy 
feelings  than  are  just  and  reasonable. 

"  But,  previous  to  any  arrangements  on  the  subject,  it  will 
be  proper  for  you,  if  you  have  not  already  done  it, — x\oi  proper 
merely,  but  indispensable^ — to  consult  Dr.  Abbot ;  to  know  his 
wishes ;  to  open  your  mind  as  freely  and  fully  to  him  on  the 
subject  as  you  have  done  to  me  ;  to  be  kept  back  from  it  by  no 
feelings  of  reserve,  or  timidity,  or  false  shame.  But  you  will 
recollect,  that  you  have  no  right  to  take  into  the  account  the 
consideration  of  your  own  studies.    If  you  find  that  Dr.  Abbot 


82  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

is  satisfied  with  your  services,  is  not  willing  to  have  you  leave 
the  Academy  till  the  e^cpiration  of  your  engagement,  or  is  not 
able  to  procure  a  supply  for  your  place  with  which  he  is  satis- 
fied, you  have  no  right  to  Avish  to  relinquish  your  engage- 
ment. 

"  But,  if  you  find  that  it  is  perfectly  agreeable  to  Dr.  Abbot, 
that  a  supply  can  be  procured  entirely  to  his  satisfaction,  and 
that  no  injury  or  disappointment  accrue,  I  shall  not  say  a  word 
to  prevent  your  taking  the  course  you  wish.  You  are  a  bet- 
ter judge  than  it  is  possible  for  me  to  be,  what  the  exigencies 
of  the  case  require,  or  will  justify.  If  it  is  your  deliberate 
opinion,  that  you  have  not  succeeded  well  as  an  instructor, 
and  that  your  services  are  not  useful,  and  you  find  that  better 
can  be  rendered  by  some  other  person,  you  must  be  extremely 
careful  not  to  add  to  the  chagrin  you  naturally  feel  in  not  equal- 
ling your  wishes,  and  satisfying  your  own  expectations,  by 
exposing  yourself  to  the  charge  of  anything  dishonorable  in 
your  manner  of  leaving  your  employment. 

"  I  will  further  suggest  to  you  to  consider,  how  far  your 
impatience  to  be  engaged  in  the  study  of  your  profession  may 
be  the  foundation  of  your  self-dissatisfaction, — or  serve  to 
increase  it,  and  to  make  you  restless  in  performing  your  duty, 
impatient  to  get  away  from  it,  and  dissatisfied  with  your  suc- 
cess to  an  unreasonable  degree.  I  hope  you  will  carefully 
probe  your  motives  to  the  very  bottom ;  and,  by  all  means  take 
no  step  that  will  be  unhandsome  as  respects  Dr.  Abbot,  to  whom 
you  owe  and  feel  so  much  respect,  attachment  and  gratitude." 

TO    HIS    FATHER. 

"  April  14,  1S14. 
"  The  general  purport  of  your  letter  is  exactly  v/hat  I  had 
anticipated,  that  is,  so  much  as  relates  to  the  propriety  of  my 
leaving  Exeter,  if  circumstances  are  as  I  stated  them.  I  was 
pleased  to  find,  too,  that  the  course  you  say  I  ought  to  have 
taken  is  that  precisely  which  I  have  taken.     I  conversed  with 


LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  83 


Dr.  Abbot  some  weeks  ago.  He  said  I  must  not  be  discour- 
aged,— I  succeeded  as  well  as  young  men  in  general.  He 
had  hoped  I  should  stay  another  ^^ear ;  it  would  be  difficult  to 
supply  my  place  at  this  season,  and  I  certainly  would  not  leave 
him  destitute.  When  I  urged  the  subject,  he  said  '  We  will 
talk  of  it  some  other  time;'  and  here  the  matter  has  rested. 
Some  particular  expressions  he  used  were  flattering  to  me ; 
but  it  was  evident  from  the  general  course  of  his  remarks,  that 
he  was  no  less  disappointed  than  mj^self  with  the  result  of  this 
second  ^^ear's  experiment.  I  shall  speak  to  him  again  to-mor- 
row, and  will  let  you  know  the  issue. 

"  The  resolution  I  have  taken  is  nothing  sudden ;  it  has 
been  some  time  forming,  and  I  have  considered  it  on  every 
side.  A  man  does  not  readily  fall  into  a  belief  of  his  own 
incompetency ;  it  must  have  been  forced  strongly  on  my  notice, 
or  I  should  not  have  seen  it.  I  have  examined  my  motives,  I 
trust,  faithfully;  and  though  I  have  perhaps  a  little  impatience 
to  answer  for,  yet  I  am  convinced  they  are  substantially  such 
as  I  have  stated  them.  I  regret  very  much  that  there  is  no- 
body in  or  near  Cambridge  who  could  take  my  place ;  for, 
without  a  successor,  I  should  be  compelled  to  remain,  let  who 
would  object  and  be  dissatisfied. 

"  April  15.  I  have  seen  Dr.  Abbot  again  ;  he  seems  unwil- 
ling to  have  the  subject  mentioned,  and  is  decidedly  against 
my  leaving  him.  He  seemed  glad  when  I  told  him  that  nobody 
could  be  procured  at  Cambridge,  though,  if  there  could  be,  he 
would  have  exchanged  me  for  him.  So  that,  if  nobody 
springs  up  from  some  other  quarter,  I  am  inevitably  fixed  here 
for  the  summer, — doomed  to  perpetual  anxiety,  and  disap- 
pointment and  chagrin.  However,  I  must  make  it  an  occa- 
sion of  moral  discipline ;  and  instead  of  brooding  upon  it  with 
gloom  and  sullenness,  to  the  injury  of  my  temper,  I  must  try 
to  make  myself  better  by  it ;  and  if  I  can  succeed  in  subd'uing 
all  impatience,  and  becoming  quite  content,  I  shall  think  I 
may  be  so  in  almost  any  state.     I  shall  not  probably  write 


84  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

again,  as  the  term  is  near  its  close.  In  tlie  vacation,  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  have  done,  and  what  I  have  left  undone ;  how 
much  time  1  have  spent  profitably,  and  how  much  idled  and 
trifled  away.  And  I  shall  idle  away  the  vacation,  except 
what  time  1  spend  talking  with  you, — for  I  am  jaded  out; 
three  weeks'  romping  will  be  hardly  enough  to  make  me  a 
man  again. 

"  I  believe  I  have  nothing  to  say  more,  except  to  give  my 
love  to  all.  j\Ir.  Buckminster's  '  Sermons '  are  read  here  with 
enthusiasm.  For  my  omti  part,  I  prefer  them  much  to  any 
others  I  have  read.  In  the  first  place  they  contain  a  vast  deal 
of  matter  ;  the  compression  is  astonishing ;  there  is  not  a  word 
which  has  not  its  weight,  nor  a  sentence  which  does  not  bear 
directly  on  the  subject.  Everything  is  to  the  purpose,  and 
everything  is  said  exactly  as  you  want  it.  And,  withal,  they 
have  all  the  impressiveness  and  animation  that  will  not  allow 
the  attention  to  flag,  which  arise  from  true  eloquence." 

Here  the  matter  rested.  No  further  attempt  was 
made  to  procure  any  one  in  his  place.  He  spent  the 
vacation  in  relaxation  at  home  and  in  visiting  some 
relations  in  the  District  of  Maine,  and  returned  to  his 
duties  in  an  improved  state  of  mind  and  body.  There 
is  little  doubt  that  indisposition,  mduced  by  the  ex- 
hausting nature  of  his  occupations,  something  of  the 
same  state  of  health,  as  that  from  which  he  afterwards 
suffered  so  much  under  the  operation  of  similar  causes, 
had  induced  that  morbid  view  of  his  situation  which 
seems  to  have  so  strongly  possessed  him.  The  manner 
in  which  he  writes  after  returning  to  Exeter,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  next  term,  shows  plainly  enough  that 
no  other  explanation  is  needed. 


JR.  85 

TO    HIS    BROTHER    JOHN. 

"  JUN^  4,  1814. 

"  The  exercise  1  took  in  the  vacation  has  done  me  a  vast 
deal  of  good.  It  has  recruited  my  strength  and  spirits,  restored 
the  tone  and  vigor  of  my  mind,  expelled  the  blue  devils,  and 
given  to  nymph  Cheerfulness  her  rightful  authority.  Every- 
thing around  me  is  smihng  and  propitious.  The  fair  month 
of  May,  indeed,  as  you  observe,  has  been  in  a  wayward  hu- 
mor, and  treated  us  most  foully,  but  our  academic  term  has 
commenced  with  most  propitious  smiles.  The  Preceptor's  first 
act  was  to  dismiss  one  of  the  irregulars,  and  protest  most  sol- 
emnly against  the  smallest  disorder,  the  slightest  infringement 
of  the  strictest  discipline.  We  have  enjoyed  a  perfect  calm 
ever  since,  which  promises  to  be  lasting ;  and  there  seems, 
besides,  to  be  an  unusual  disposition  to  studiousness,  as  well  as 
regularity.  My  own  studies,  I  believe,  go  on  as  well  as  can 
be  expected.  I  have  accomplished  a  good  deal,  as  I  always 
can  at  the  beginning  of  a  term,  but  I  grow  capable  of  less  and 
less  as  it  draws  to  a  close.  Mr.  Hildreth  is  to  supply  for  a 
few  Sabbaths  at  Portsmouth,  and  I  have  engaged  to  read  in 
his  place  during  his  absence.  I  don't  know  whether  this  is  a 
perfectly  regular  and  proper  step,  but  I  was  earnestly  requested 
to  do  it.  Mr.  Whitman  had  done  it  before,  and  I  thought  it 
would  be  of  service  to  me,  as  undoubtedly  it  will  be  in  many 
important  respects." 

He  accordingly  officiated  for  several  Sundays  in  the 
place  of  Mr.  Hildreth,  who  was  one  of  his  fellow-in- 
structors in  the  Academy.  The  following  letters  furnish 
a  sufficient  account  of  the  circumstances  under  which 
he  thus,  for  the  first  time,  appeared  in  the  pulpit,  of  the 
degree  of  success  which  attended  the  attempt,  and  of 
the  feelings  which  he  experienced  in  connexion  with  it. 
8 


86  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WAREj   JR. 

TO    HIS    FATHER. 

''  June  29,  1S14. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  will  say  to  my  entering  the  pulpit 
in  this  way ;  I  was  in  hope  to  have  had  a  word  from  you  about 
it  before  this.  For  my  own  part,  I  confess,  however,  that  I 
had  no  hesitation  on  the  subject,  whether  right  or  wrong  I  can- 
not tell ;  but  in  truth  I  have  always  had  a  strong  inclination,  it 
might  very  well  be  called  an  innate  propensity,  to  preach, 
for  I  do  not  know  whence  it  arose ;  and  I  seized  this  oppor- 
tunity, more,  perhaps,  from  a  desire  to  gratify  my  favorite 
wish,  than  from  any  very  distinct  reasons  of  any  kind.  I 
have  made  the  experiment,  and  I  think  some  good  will  result 
from  it.  That  which  regards  my  preparation  for  a  public 
speaker,  is  very  obvious,  and  I  am  glad  to  find,  that  I  can 
speak  so  loud  with  so  little  fatigue.  Its  inward  effects  on  my 
own  mind  and  heart  are  more  important  and  more  doubtful.  I 
am  sorry  I  cannot  perceive  all  I  wished  and  hoped.  One  valu- 
able piece  of  self-knowledge,  however,  I  have  had  abundantly 
and  mournfully  confirmed,  that  my  ruling  passion  is  the  love 
of  praise,  and  that  it  will  require  the  utmost  vigilance  and 
most  constant  exertions  to  prevent  my  being  made  the  slave  of 
vanity,  and  doing  all  things  to  be  seen  of  men.  It  would  be 
melancholy,  indeed,  if  I  should  go  through  life  preaching 
Christ  for  my  own  sake,  and  quite  as  attentive  to  my  reputa- 
tion as  to  that  of  the  gospel,  turning  the  pulpit  into  a  stage 
from  which  to  display  myself  to  the  world.  I  try  to  speak 
with  as  much  openness  as  possible  to  you,  as,  if  it  is  a  case 
which  admits  of  it,  I  wish  your  advice. 

"  I  have  read  one  sermon  from  Sherlock,  four  from  Porteus, 
and  one  of  his  lectures  (from  the  pulpit,  I  mean.)  I  had 
never  seen  Porteus  before  ;  I  admire  them  very  much  ;  they 
are  sensible,  and  pious,  and  eloquent,  in  everything  exactly 
to  my  taste,  except  that  there  is  a  want  of  distinctness  in  the 
divisions  of  his  discourses.     Sherlock's  are  very  fine.     I  think 


87 

they  contain  a  great  deal  of  valuable  good  sense,  and  might 
many  of  them  be  studied  to  great  advantage.  They  are, 
indeed,  much  better  suited  to  the  closet  than  the  desk ;  not 
half  of  what  is  valuable  can  be  carried  away  from  a  single 
reading ;  and  I  think,  or  it  may  be  the  fault  of  my  own 
dulness,  that  he  has  some  obscurity  in  his  arrangement  and 
way  of  treating  a  subject,  though  he  pretends  to  be  very 
methodical ;  and  he  takes  frequently  so  little  pains  to  show  us 
the  connexion  between  the  commencement  of  one  paragraph 
and  the  close  of  the  preceding,  or  sometimes  how  a  whole 
paragraph  has  aiiy  bearing  on  the  subject,  that  the  reader  is 
often  obliged  to  stop,  and  ponder,  and  make  from  his  own 
reflections  a  link,  which  the  writer  was  too  proud  to  furnish. 
Dr.  Butler  would  have  admired  this,  if  we  may  judge  by  his 
preface ;  but  it  does  not  at  all  please  us  smaller  heads  of 
modern  growth. 

"  I  must  confess,  Tillotson  disappointed  me  ;  not  but  that 
he  has  a  great  deal  of  piety  and  good  sense,  but  there  is  a 
smaller  fund  of  the  latter  than  I  expected ;  he  is  quaint,  and 
he  strings  his  good  remarks  together  so  loosely  and  care- 
lessly that  they  lose  half  their  beauty  and  attraction  from  the 
awkward  position  in  which  he  places  them.  I  believe  I  have 
heard  him  praised  for  a  simple  style,  but  he  wants  compactness 
and  neatness  exceedingly. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  say  my  remarks  are  not  very  important, 
and  are  too  much  employed  on  the  externals,  the  mere  dress 
of  thought.  I  have  not,  however,  passed  lightly  over  the 
matter,  but  have  endeavored  to  appreciate  it  as  I  ought.  But 
the  more  I  read,  the  more  I  am  convinced  of  the  necessity  of 
arranging  thoughts  properly,  if  we  would  have  them  attractive 

and  forcible  ;    and,  as  L has  taught  me  that  a  man's 

manner  of  writing  may  be  generally  considered  as  a  pattern 
of  his  manner  of  thinking,  and  that  whatever  looseness,  incor- 
rectness, &c.,  we  find  in  the  former,  has  its  origin  in  the 
latter,  I  attend  to  this  subject  principally  with  a  view  to  learn 


JR. 


how  thoughts  should  be  manag-ed  and  arranged,  to  learn  what 
faults  are  to  be  avoided,  and  what  excellences  imitated,  in  mar- 
shalling and  stationing  ideas.  Am  I  intelligible  ?  It  is  with 
this  intention  of  improving  m^^self  in  what  I  now  consider  a 
very  important  point,  that  I  make  criticisms  of  this  kind. 
I  could  wish  to  divide  and  arrange  a  discourse  as  neatly  as 
Blair  or  Buckminster ;  I  think  here  they  excel.  Then,  if  I 
were  a  city  preacher,  I  should  wish  to  write  it  like  Porteus  ; 
if  a  country  preacher,  like  the  sermons  in  '  The  Christian 
Observer,'  with  one  more  degree  of  animation.  Blair's  style 
would  not  do,  for  he  is  too  moderate,  and  has  too  much  same- 
ness ;  nor  Buckminster's,  for  it  is  too  finished. 

"  However,  after  all,  if  a  man  has  a  clear  head  and  a  good 
heart,  he  will  do  well  enough  without  troubling  himself  about 
models,  much  better  than  he  can  ever  do  by  the  latter  alone, 
if  he  wants  the  former,  or  either  of  the  former.  Indeed,  it  is 
nothing  but  the  lamentable  fastidiousness  of  taste  produced  by 
learning  and  refinement,  which  makes  this  study  and  artifice 
at  all  necessary.  A  sermon  in  a  barn  extempore,  from  a  man 
who  never  read  anything  but  his  Bible  and  Psalm  Book,  but 
who  speaks  in  earnest,  and  because  he  feels,  will  bave  more 
effect  on  more  persons,  will  give  rise  to  more  good  and  pious 
feelings  and  actions,  than  the  most  eloquent  and  finished 
harangue  that  was  ever  penned.  Still  I  would  not  have  all 
preachers  made  on  this  model ;  the  learned  and  refined  must 
have  preachers  suited  to  them,  as  well  as  the  more  rude  and 
simple  ;  they  cannot,  both  classes,  drink  religion  from  the 
same  vessels,  though  they  may  draw  it  from  the  same  fountain ; 
and,  perhaps,  as  he  is  the  more  excellent  artist  who  makes 
glass  tumblers  for  the  rich,  than  he  who  makes  wooden  bowls 
for  the  poor,  so  he  is  the  more  commendable  and  praisewor- 
thy, who  can  recommend  religion  to  the  higher  classes  in 
such  a  way  as  to  influence  their  consciences  and  lives." 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    Jfl.  89 


FROM   HIS    FATHER. 


"  July  1,  1814. 
''  I  received,  yesterday,  your  letter  of  no  date,  and  received, 
as  I  always  do  from  your  letters,  a  great  deal  of  satisfaction 
from  its  contents.  As  you  are  capable  of  perceiving  the  foible 
by  which  you  are  endangered,  and  of  feeling  the  necessity  of 
guarding  against  it,  I  have  reason  to  hope,  that  you  will  so 
keep  before  your  mind  the  higher  and  better  motives  of  action, 
as  to  leave  that  in  question  only  its  proper  degree  of  influence. 
The  opposite  fault,  that  of  indifference  to  public  opinion^ 
you  will  not  forget,  is  also  to  be  guarded  against.  Indeed,  I 
know  not  where,  in  the  moral  any  more  than  in  the  natural 
world,  there  is  a  Scylla  without  its  Charybdis  on  the  other 
side.  I  hope  you  will  be  under  a  safe  pilotage  of  sound  sense 
and  upright  intentions,  Avhich  will  steer  you  safely  between 
ihem. 

"  If  you  find  yourself  competent  to  the  task,  I  am  not  sorry 
that  you  have  the  opportunity  of  reading  and  performing 
worship  in  public.  It  may  be  made  a  very  useful  discipline 
to  you  in  many  respects.  You  will  learn  the  compass  and 
strength  of  your  voice,  and  its  modulation,  and  something  of 
your  power  of  engaging  the  attention  of  an  assembly  by  your 
manner,  and  may  receive  hints  by  which  to  correct  any  faults 
of  attitude,  enunciation,  or  gesture.  What  is  more  important, 
it  will  give  an  intellectual  stimulus,  teach  you  to  read  and 
judge  of  sermons  with  different  and  better  discrimination,  help 
you  to  form  a  good  taste  in  writing,  and  probably  more  prac- 
tical than  you  would  otherwise  do.  Most  of  all,  it  will  produce 
a  moral  excitement,  bring  into  exercise  your  religious  affec- 
tions, enable  you  to  understand  more  of  your  own  heart,  and 
thus  give  you  means  and  motives,  which  you  had  not  before, 
of  self-correction,  and  religious  and  moral  improvement. 

"  The  notices  you  have  taken  on  these  subjects  are  a  pledge 
to  me,  that  you  will  lay  yourself  open  to  improvement  in  all 
8=^ 


90  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

these  respects.  One  effect  of  this  anticipation  of  study  and 
preparation,  I  hope  you  will  guard  against, — that  of  impatience 
and  precipitation.  I  shall  wish  you  to  go  through  a  consid- 
erable course  of  preparatory  study  before  you  commence 
preaching,  though  I  shall  have  no  wish  for  you  to  defer  it 
beyond  a  reasonable  length  of  time.  Another  hope  I  have  is, 
that,  in  gaining  confidence  and  the  power  of  self-possession, 
you  will  lose  no  part  of  that  modesty  which  becomes  a  young 
man." 

His  services  were  so  acceptable  to  the  Society,  that 
he  was  engaged  to  read  to  them  as  long  as  he  remained 
in  Exeter.  Dr.  Abbot,  in  a  letter  before  quoted,  alludes 
to  the  same  subject.  ''About  this  time  it  occurred  in 
our  little  Society,  where  most  of  our  respectable  and 
educated  gentlemen  attended  worship,  that  the  desk 
was  to  be  left  vacant  for  a  few  Sabbaths,  and  Mr.  Ware 
was  applied  to  to  supply  it  by  performing  the  devotional 
exercises,  and  reading  from  printed  discourses.  I  was 
at  first  astonished  at  his  accepting  the  invitation,  and 
went  to  church  with  much  anxiety  for  my  young  friend ; 
but  1  was  soon  relieved,  and  delighted  with  his  self- 
possession,  the  propriety  and  ardor  of  his  devotional 
exercises,  the  skill  and  judgment  of  his  selections  of 
discourses,  and  his  very  interesting  manner  of  delivering 
them.  We  were  all  delighted  with  him ;  so  much  so, 
that,  at  the  close  of  the  engagement.  Judge  Smith* 
exclaimed  to  me,  as  we  left  church;  'I  have  often 
attended  church  in  Boston,  New  York,  and  Philadel- 
phia ;  and  I  do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  been  better  sat- 
isfied with  exercises  and  services  of  four  Sabbaths,  than 
with  this  young  man  of  yours.  He  will  be  eminent  in 
his  profession,'  " 

*  Hon.  Jeremiah  Smith,  at  different  times  Governor  and  Chief  Justice  of 
New  Hampshire. 


CHAPTER    V. 

STUDIES  DIVINITY  AT  CAMBRIDGE — STATE  OF  EDUCATION  THERE — HE 
IS  APPROBATED — RESULTS  OF  SELF-EXAMINATION — FIRST  PREACH- 
ING—ORDAINED   PASTOR    OVER    THE    SECOND    CHURCH    IN    BOSTON. 

1814-17.     JET.  20—23. 

In  August,  1814,  he  left  Exeter,  and  returned  to 
Cambridge,  to  finish  his  theological  studies  as  a  resi- 
dent graduate  at  the  University.  He  now  lived  in  his 
father's  house,  in  habits  of  constant  daily  intercourse 
with  him,  and  studying  under  his  personal  direction. 
All  the  members  of  the  family  were  also  at  this  time 
at  home ;  and  this  period,  therefore,  furnishes  none  of 
those  materials  for  biography,  which  are  afforded  by 
the  familiar  interchange  of  letters.  The  stated  provi- 
sions for  theological  education  at  Cambridge  were,  at 
this  time,  very  scanty.  The  studies  were  pursued 
under  the  general  superintendence  of  the  Professor  of 
Divinity,  who  laid  out  a  regular  course  of  reading ;  but 
this  course  was  merely  advisory.  There  were  no  exer- 
cises, except  a  single  one  every  week  in  the  criticism  of 
the  New  Testament;  no  examinations,  no  instruction 
in  parochial  duty.  There  Avere  no  opportunities  for 
practice  in  public  speaking,  except  at  the  weekly  meet- 
ings of  a  society  of  the  students,  of  which  Mr.  Norton 
was  at  this  time  president.  At  these  meetings  there 
were  devotional  exercises  and  a  sermon,  followed  by 


92  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

observations  and  critical  remarks.  No  examinations 
being  held,  no  authority  or  license  to  preach  was  de- 
rived from  a  connexion  with  the  institution  ;  but,  at  the 
close  of  a  suitable  period  of  study,  which  was,  however, 
by  no  means  of  uniform  length,  the  student  presented 
himself  to  some  Association  of  mmisters,  by  whom,  after 
they  had  made  such  inquiry  respecting  his  qualifica- 
tions as  were  judged  necessary,  and  heard  a  sermon  of 
his  composition,  he  was,  to  use  the  phrase  of  the  day, 
aj)probated.  This  body  claimed  no  authority  in  this 
matter,  and  did  not  regard  themselves  as  having  power 
to  require  any  particular  amount  of  qualification,  any 
regular  course  of  study,  or  any  definite  period  of  time 
spent  in  preparation ;  nor  did  they  profess  to  confer  any 
rights.  Their  certificate  was  merely  one  of  recommen- 
dation. 

On  his  first  return  to  Cambridge,  my  brother  had  been 
invited  by  Mr.  Norton,  then  librarian  of  the  College,  to 
take  the  ofiice  of  sub-librarian.  This  was  a  place  of 
small  emolument,  but  occupied  very  little  time,  and  occa- 
sioned no  considerable  interruption  to  the  regular  prose- 
cution of  his  studies.  He  held  it  for  one  year.  During 
the  period  of  his  professional  preparation,  his  attention 
was  by  no  means  exclusively  confined  to  this  object. 
He  continued  to  keep  up  his  interest  in  general  read- 
ing, and  frequently  indulged  in  poetical  composition. 
In  the  winter  of  1815,  on  the  conclusion  of  the  Trea- 
ty of  Peace  with  Great  Britain,  he  delivered  a  poem  at 
a  public  celebration  of  the  event,  in  Cambridge,  and,  in 
August,  1816,  the  annual  poem  before  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  Society.  Both  of  these  performances  were  re- 
ceived with  a  good  deal  of  favor  on  their  delivery,  and 
the  former  was  printed. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  93 

He  received  his  certificate  of  approbation  on  the  31st 
of  July,  1815.  Of  the  state  of  feeUng  in  regard  to  his  own 
character,  and  in  regard  also  to  his  profession,  with 
which  he  entered  upon  the  duties  of  that  profession, 
many  parts  of  this  volume  will,  I  trust,  present  sufficient 
evidence.  But  there  is  none  more  satisfactory  than 
that  which  is  contained  in  the  following  paper,  written 
on  his  twenty-first  birth-day,  April  21st,  1815,  only  a 
few  months  before  he  began  to  preach.  It  was  proba- 
bly seen  by  no  one  during  his  lifetime.  On  the  enve- 
lope was  written,  — ''  To  be  ojjened  and  read  f  07-  impi^ove- 
ment.  once  a  monthP 

"April  21,  1815.  It  has  pleased  my  heavenly  Father  to 
prolong  my  life  to  the  close  of  its  twenty-first  year.  Three- 
score years  and  ten  is  a  long  date  for  the  life  of  a  man :  how 
few  reach  it,  and  yet  nearly  one  third  of  this  longest  period 
is  already  past.  And,  if  we  calculate  the  length  of  life  from 
the  majority  of  instances,  probably  not  less  than  half  of  mine 
is  now  spent.  In  a  world  of  so  much  uncertainty,  how  can  I 
hope  to  live  yet  another  period  of  twenty  years  ;  for  how  many 
are  continually  falling  around  me  in  the  interval  between 
twenty  and  forty.  How  has  this  large  portion  of  my  allotted 
existence  been  improved  ?  Have  I  fulfilled  the  designs  of  my 
being  ?  Have  I  been  diligent  and  useful  ?  Have  my  privile- 
ges and  opportunities  been  so  employed  as  to  give  bright  pros- 
pects to  the  future,  whether  I  continue  in  the  world  or  quit  it  ? 
With  gratitude  to  God  I  would  acknowledge  his  past  goodness. 
It  has  been  very  great  and  very  undeserved.  Few  young  men 
come  forward  to  the  world  under  so  favorable  auspices. 

"  From  my  very  childhood  I  have  been  allowed  the  leisure 
and  the  means  of  cultivating  my  mind,  and  preparing  to  move 
in  the  higher  walks  of  usefulness  and  respectability.  My 
parents  were  pious,  virtuous,  and  faithful ;  they  early  instilled 


94  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

into  me  the  good  principles  of  religion  and  virtue,  the  fear  and 
love  of  God,  and  set  themselves  an  example  of  all  that  is  good 
and  excellent.  It  pleased  God,  indeed,  early  to  remove  my 
beloved  mother,  and  I  have  no  distinct  knowledge,  but  a  gen- 
eral and  pleasant  impression  of  her  virtues.  The  love  I  then 
bore  her  has  left  a  savor  in  my  heart.  My  father  has  been 
kindly  spared  until  I  am  able  to  appreciate  his  worth,  and 
derive  tha highest  advantage  from  his  experience,  and  exam- 
ple, and  instruction.  Under  his  eye,  influenced  by  all  the 
motives  which  the  presence  of  a  loved  parent  can  inspire,  I 
have  passed  the  term  of  collegiate  education,  and  learned  that 
God  has  intrusted  me  with  talents,  which  may  make  me 
respectable  and  useful,  and  which  I  am  not  to  suffer  to  lie  inac- 
tive and  unoccupied.  I  bless  him  for  them;  and  pray  that  I 
may  feel  the  obligation  they  impose  of  greater  vigilance  and 
virtue,  than  belongs  to  those  who  have  been  less  favored.  I 
have  also  had  given  me  two  years  of  happiness  and  improve- 
ment in  the  fine  circle  of  Exeter.  I  had  there  much  to  be 
thankful  for,  and  have  only  to  regret  my  impatience  for  a 
change  of  scene ;  for  I  was  in  a  most  favorable  situation  for 
the  improvement  of  social  and  benevolent  feeling,  and  the  cul- 
tivation of  my  moral  and  religious  affections.  I  look  back 
upon  this  time  as  a  period  of  great  progress  in  my  Christian 
course.  But  the  warmth  and  zeal  of  those  days  have  faded 
away  into  colder  and  more  indifferent  feelings  since  my  return 
to  Cambridge,  although  I  have  great  cause  for  gratitude  in  my 
opportunities  of  study  and  improvement. 

"  Here,  then,  in  this  short  retrospect,  are  crowded  how  many 
reasons  of  praise  to  Almighty  goodness  !  How  many  invalu- 
able opportunities  and  privileges  !  What  precious  blessings  in 
the  past,  what  high  and  sublime  hopes  for  the  future  !  But 
how  poorly  have  I  improved  them !  My  exertions  in  duty 
have  been  wavering  and  unequal,  my  resolutions  of  virtue 
have  been  feeble  and  soon  broken  ;  I  have  suflered  my  con- 
science to  be  hardened,  to  be  sluggish  and  slow  to  give  warn- 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  95 

ing,  and  have  allowed  my  passions  or  a  momentary  interest  to 
make  me  deaf  to  its  suggestions.  Hence  I  have  in  some  great 
degree  lost  that  quick  perception  and  high  sense  of  duty,  which 
all  ought  to  cherish,  and  without  which  a  man  can  neither  be 
eminent  nor  virtuous.  This,  I  think,  is  my  great  failing, 
indifference,  indolence,  apathy,  insensibility  to  motives  ;  hence 
a  decay  of  religious  affection,  of  piety  and  thoughtfulness.  I 
do  not  forget  God,  but  I  allow  myself  to  neglect  him  ;  I  do  not 
shun  duties,  but  I  perform  them  sluggishly.  Hence  I  suffer 
time  to  be  wasted,  and  opportunities  to  pass  unimproved. 
This  indolence  also  has  extended  to  my  body.  I  have  dreaded 
exercise  and  indulged  in  sloth  till  my  health  suffers,  and  this 
renders  me  unable,  as  well  as  indisposed,  to  study.  The  same 
indecision  and  love  of  ease  have  led  me  to  an  indulgence  of 
appetite  ;  I  practise  no  self-denial ;  temperance,  although  I  fre- 
quently resolve  it,  is  not  one  of  my  virtues.  This  indulgence 
again  acts  on  my  mind,  increases  sloth,  and  weakens  the 
motives  to  vigorous  and  careful  living.  I  have  learnt  to  muse 
of  virtue  instead  of  practising  it,  to  be  satisfied  with  loving 
goodness,  and  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  I  shall  he  good, 
without  being  so,  i.  e.  without  being  so  to  the  degree  and 
extent  that  I  conceive  a  Christian  minister  should  be.  For  I 
will  not,  from  false  or  pretended  humiUty,  say  that  I  am  the 
vilest  of  sinners;  I  know  I  am  not,  though  a  very  great  one, 
one  who  has  hope  only  in  the  mercy  of  God.  But,  instead  of 
that  progress  and  continual  improvement,  that  reaching  forward 
to  great  things,  that  aspiring  to  perfection,  which  Christianity 
requires,  and  St.  Paul  so  vehemently  urges,  I  lament  before 
God  that  I  feel  myself  depreciating.  O  Father,  most  gracious 
and  merciful,  pity  and  forgive  me  !  Help  me  to  reform,  and 
to  live  a  life  acceptable  to  thee  through  Jesus  Christ  thy  Son  ! 
I  would  have  more  ardor,  and  vigor,  and  perseverance,  and 
approve  myself  worthy  of  my  high  vocation ;  more  readiness 
to  hear  the  call  of  duty,  and  more  alacrity  in  obeying  it.  I 
would  feel  more  constantly  and  sensibly  the  obligations  my 


96  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

situation  imposes  on  me  ;  the  motives  which  should  urge  me ; 
I  desire  to  waste  less  time,  and  become  more  faithful  and  stu- 
dious. I  have  undertaken  the  gospel  ministry.  I  feel  it  to 
be  a  station  of  labor  and  responsibility ;  no  common  exertions 
will  enable  me  so  to  qualify  myself,  that  I  can  discharge  its 
duties  with  perfect  satisfaction,  or  answer  the  demands  of  my 
conscience,  my  friends,  or  my  God. 

"  I  am  sensible  that  my  father  and  friends  look  upon  me 
with  anxiety  and  much  hope ;  and  shall  I  indulge  my  indo- 
lent habits  and  disappoint  them  ?  Shall  my  great  opportuni- 
ties and  privileges  be  wasted,  and  all  that  God  and  men  have 
done  for  me  come  to  nought  ?  O  !  I  feel  that  I  have  grown 
hardened  ;  I  am  not  easily  moved  as  I  once  was ;  I  am  asleep 
to  strong  motives,  sunk  in  a  lethargic  calm  ;  I  pray  that  I  may 
be  awakened.  I  will  endeavor,  I  will  make  an  effort,  and, 
strong  in  the  Lord  and  in  the  power  of  his  might,  regain  those 
feelings  and  habits  I  once  possessed ;  that  feeling  of  piety ; 
that  lively  sense  of  duty ;  that  self-government  and  those  stu- 
dious habits,  which  I  have  lost,  and  which  must  be  recovered 
or  I  fall.  My  situation  has  peculiar  temptations  to  distract 
my  attention  and  break  fixed  habits ;  to  these  I  have  yielded 
instead  of  resisting  them.     Now  they  must  be  overcome. 

"  Since  the  winter  vacation  I  have  accomplished  scarcely 
anything  of  study ;  the  time  has  almost  been  wasted,  and, 
instead  of  improving,  I  am  afraid  I  have  grown  worse  in  both 
my  religious  and  literary  character.  Indeed,  my  health  has 
been  bad  ;  perhaps  my  complaints  are  the  beginnings  of  a  dis- 
ease which  may  end  fatally.  I  pray  that  I  may  be  prepared 
for  any  event,  and  equally  glorify  God  in  my  life  or  my  death. 
If  God  please,  I  would  that  my  days  might  be  prolonged ;  for 
I  earnestly  desire  to  be  better  prepared,  and  to  be  the  instru- 
ment of  some  good  in  the  world  ere  I  leave  it.  I  wish  I  might 
not  merely  pass  over  a  few  years  of  time,  and  leave  no  trace 
of  good  ;  but  I  would  do  something  for  the  cause  of  virtue  and 
the  happiness  of  man  ;  so  that,  when  I  shall  be  called  to  another 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  97 

State,  I  may  meet  with  some  who  shall  greet  me  with  love  and 
gratitude,  and  may  receive  the  approbation  of  my  Saviour  and 
my  God. 

"  But,  great  God,  thy  will  be  done.  I  am  in  thy  hands ; 
may  I  acquiesce  in  thine  appointments.  Whatever  time  thou 
shalt  allot  me,  may  I  well  improve  it,  and  cultivate  the  powers 
thou  hast  given  me.  May  I  ever  fix  my  eye  upon  thee  and 
upon  duty,  and,  through  thy  grace  in  Jesus  Christ,  my  Lord, 
become  such  as  thou  wilt  delight  to  own  and  to  bless.  O,  for- 
give my  past  follies ;  help  me  in  time  to  come  ;  dehght  to  bless 
me ;  and  finally  grant  me  to  see  thy  presence  and  glory  in 
peace,  through  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  thy  love,  the  Saviour 
of  men." 

But  with  all  such  sober  views,  there  was  still  nothing 
gloomy  or  distrustful  in  his  habitual  state  of  mind. 
He  was  constitutionally  cheerful,  even  when  laboring 
under  considerable  indisposition,  and  looked  on  life  with 
much  of  hope  for  the  future,  as  well  as  of  gratitude  for 
the  past.     In  a  letter  written  about  this  time  he  sa^^'s  : 

"  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  look  only  at  the  dark  side.  I 
think  the  world  has  a  great  deal  more  happiness  than  misery 
in  it ;  and  that,  upon  the  whole,  life  is  a  very  good  thing.  For 
my  own  part,  at  least,  I  have  infinitely  more  reason  to  rejoice 
with  gratitude,  than  to  complain ;  and  I  cannot  help  some- 
times thinking,  that  some  of  those  who  so  bitterly  complain  of 
the  evils  and  burdens  of  this  world,  will  have  reason  to  think 
it  a  very  tolerable  one  when  they  have  seen  another.  I  think 
that  with  a  contented  disposition,  if  a  man  will  resolve  to  be 
cheerful,  he  may  always  be  pretty  happy ;  this  is  one  of  the 
first  requisites." 

The  tw^o  following  extracts  from  other  letters  of  this 
period  serve  also  to  illustrate  the  nature  of  his  views  and 
9 


98  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

the  condition  of  his  mind.  The  first  was  written  to  a 
friend,  in  relation  to  some  criticisms  upon  the  preaching 
of  a  young  clergyman ;  the  second  to  a  brother,  who 
was  about  beginning  the  study  of  divinity. 

"  April,  1815. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  find  you  speak  as  you  do  of  his  preaching. 
You  may  be  correct ;  but  I  cannot  help  thinking,  that  he  must 
yet  make  considerable  progress.  His  mind  certainly  has  not 
reached  its  full  maturity ;  and,  while  its  powers  ripen,  I  see  no 
reason  w'hy  his  skill  in  using  them  should  not  improve.  I  am 
sorry  if  his  manner  is  so  uniformly  delicate  and  polished.  I 
like  some  roughness ;  I  should  learn  to  sleep,  if  my  minister 
were  never  venturesome,  and  never  hazarded  a  bold  idea  or 
expression.  I  like  to  be  roused  and  interested  in  different 
ways  at  different  times.  But  I  think  you  claim  too  much, 
when  you  demand  from  a  preacher  great  talents  and  scholar- 
ship, and  fertility  and  originality,  at  once  ;  we  should  not  thus 
have  more  than  two  in  a  century.  A  very  moderate  degree  of 
each  is  sufficient.  I  set  a  less  value  on  his  public  duties  as 
orator  and  instructor  than  most  people  do,  and  more  on  his 
private  duties.  It  is  in  the  last,  that  he  has  most  real  religious 
influence ;  and  it  is  from  his  performance  of  them,  that  most 
of  his  people  w^ill  form  their  opinion,  and  learn  to  love  or 
despise  him.  So  that  a  man  of  good  feelings,  amiable  dis- 
position, &c.,  may  have  great  influence  and  be  an  excellent 
pastor,  though  his  sermons  display  very  little  erudition  or 
talent.  It  is  necessary,  indeed,  that  there  should  be  some 
great  men  to  preserve  the  grandeur  and  respectabihty  of  the 
Christian  institution;  but  these  maybe  few,  and  I  think  are 
comparatively  of  little  importance." 

"  Above  all  things,  do  not  be  led  into  our  profession  by  the 
idea  that  your  success  in  life  w^ill  be  easiest.  I  think  this 
motive  ought  not  to  have  influence  in  choosing  it.  The 
motives  ought  to  be  religious  ones ;  and  I  should  esteem  it  a 


JR.  99 

profanation  to  preach  heavenly  truths  merely  for  the  sake  of 
this  world's  goods.  For  my  own  part,  I  never  would  have 
entered  it,  unless  I  had  preferred  it  altogether  beyond  all  others. 
Conscience  ought  to  have  more  concern  than  anything  else,  in 
embracing  it." 

The  following  passage  from  a  letter  of  a  somewhat 
later  date,  to  the  same  brother,  shows  how  much  he  was 
awake  to  the  dangers  of  his  office,  as  well  as  to  its 
duties  and  difficulties.  > 

"  Dear  AV.,  w^hile  we  preach  of  time  and  eternity  to  others, 
do  not  let  us  become  hardened  to  the  impression  ourselves. 
No  men  are  in  greater  danger  than  we,  of  being  without  reli- 
gious sentiment.  Here  lies  our  danger,  and  here  must  our 
guard  be  placed." 

Some  time  elapsed,  it  does  not  appear  why,  between 
his  receiving  a  certificate  of  approbation  and  his  be- 
ginning to  preach.  He  did  not  appear  in  pubUc  till  the 
8th  of  October,  1815,  more  than  two  months  from  the 
date  of  his  examination.  He  made  his  first  essay  at 
West  Cambridge,  in  the  pulpit  of  the  Rev.  Thaddeus 
Fisk,  a  classmate,  friend,  and  brother-in-law  of  his 
father.  On  the  22d  of  October  he  preached,  for  the 
second  time,  at  Cambridgeport,  and  afterward,  with  but 
one  exception,  on  every  Sabbath,  till  he  was  ordained. 
In  the  next  February  he  was  employed  four  Sabbaths 
at  the  Second  Church  in  Boston,  left  vacant  the  pre- 
ceding year  by  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lathrop ;  in 
April,  four  at  Lexington :  in  May,  four  at  the  Church 
in  Brattle  Square,  Boston ;  and,  in  September,  tliree  at 
Charlestown.  These  were  the  only  vacant  parishes  in 
which  he  preached  as  a  candidate  for  settlement. 


100  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

His  preaching  attracted  at  first  no  particular  attention, 
and  made  no  strong  impression.  Expectation  had  not 
been  excited  with  regard  to  him,  either  on  the  part  of 
his  friends,  or  of  the  puhhc.  To  the  pubhc,  indeed,  he 
was  ahnost  wholly  unkno\vn;  for,  although  he  had 
always  been  respected  as  a  scholar,  writer,  and  speaker, 
and  though  the  excellence  of  his  character,  and  the 
soundness  of  his  views  of  his  profession,  led  those  who 
knew  him  to  expect  an  acceptable  and  useful  teacher  of 
religion,  yet  there  had  been  nothing  brilliant  in  his  pre- 
vious course  to  make  him  the  object  of  particular  regard. 
There  had  been  nothing  to  point  him  out  as  a  man 
destined  to  popularity  or  eminence.  He  did  not  himself 
look  for  great  success  ;  and  his  reputation  as  a  preacher 
was  so  slow  in  its  growth,  and  stole  upon  him  in  so 
gradual  a  manner,  that  it  came  to  him  at  last  as  a  sort 
of  discovery,  to  his  own  surprise,  and,  as  to  the  degree 
of  it,  indeed,  to  the  surprise  of  many  of  his  friends. 

There  is  no  doubt  an  advantage  in  beginning  with 
such  moderate  success.  A  young  person  can  hardly 
enter  iipon  life  with  any  circumstance  so  unfavorable 
to  his  ultimate  reputation  and  usefulness,  as  highly 
raised  expectations.  Many  a  worthy  man  has  broken 
down  mider  the  burden  of  a  reputation  in  advance. 
He  must  have  more  than  ordinary  qualities,  who  can 
survive  it.  It  is  better  the  world  should  wonder  that  it 
has  not  heard  of  anew  candidate  for  its  attention  before, 
than  that  it  should  wonder  why  it  has  heard  so  much. 

Mr.  Amos  La^vrence,  a  warm  friend  to  him  through 
life,  in  a  letter  written  to  Mrs.  Ware  since  the  death  of 
her  husband,  gives  the  following  account  of  his  first 
appearance  in  a  Boston  pulpit,  on  the  5th  of  January, 
1816,  and  of  the  impression  which  he  then  made. 


101 

"  The  first  time  I  ever  saw  your  liusband,  was  at  a  Friday 
Lecture,  in  Brattle  Square  Churcli,  and  the  first  time  he  ever 
preached  in  Boston.  He  was  so  agitated  as  to  make  me  feel 
deep  sympathy  and  pity  for  him,  in  the  commencement  of  his 
services ;  but  very  soon  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten  himself, 
and  to  be  thinking  only  of  his  Master  and  the  work  he  was  to 
perform.  The  unction  and  spirit,  in  which  the  services  were 
continued  and  closed,  led  me  to  ask,  with  many  others,  '  Who 
is  this  young  man  ? '  and  from  that  time  forward,  I  cherished 
his  acquaintance,  honored  his  character,  the  more  I  became 
acquainted  with  him,  and  loved  him  as  a  friend." 

The  comparatively  slight  impression,  which  his  ear- 
ly efforts  made  upon  the  public,  is  strikingly  shown  by 
the  fact  J  that  a  long  interval  elapsed  between  his  first 
and  second  engagements  to  preach  in  the  church  of 
which  he  afterwards  became  the  pastor.  As  already 
mentioned,  he  preached  at  the  Second  Church  in  Boston 
as  early  as  February,  1816.  This  Society  afterwards 
heard  a  number  of  other  candidates,  and  he  was  not 
invited  a  second  time  till  the  following  October.  An 
invitation  to  become  their  minister  followed  immediately 
upon  the  conclusion  of  the  second  engagement ;  but  the 
vote  to  give  this  invitation,  though  a  decided,  was  far 
from  a  unanimous  one.  Of  forty-six  votes  he  received 
but  thirty-six ;  the  rest  being  given  for  his  friend,  Mr. 
Thomas  Prentiss,  afterwards  ordained  at  Charlestown. 
Still,  the  opponents  of  his  election,  though  preferring 
another,  were  not  unfriendly  to  him ;  and  many  of  them 
became  subsequently  the  warmest  of  his  supporters. 

This  invitation  was  given  on  the  17th  of  November, 

1816,  and  was  answered  in  the  affirmative  on  the  30th 

of  the  same  month.     The  ordination  took  place  on  the 

first  day  of  the  ensuing  year.     The  council  on  this 

9* 


102  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

occasion  was  composed  of  the  following  ministers; 
Messrs.  Holley,  Chamiing,  Frotliingham,  Lowell,  and 
Parkman,  of  Boston,  with  delegates  from  the  New  South 
and  Brattle  Square  Churches,  which  were  destitute  of 
pastors;  Drs.  Kirkla^id  and  Ware,  of  the  University 
Church,  Dr.  Holmes  of  Cambridge,  Dr.  Fisk  of  West 
Cambridge,  Dr.  Allyn  of  Duxbury,  Mr.  Tuckerman  of 
Chelsea,  and  Mr.  Colman  of  Hingham.  The  sermon 
was  preached  by  the  father  of  the  candidate ;  the  prayer 
of  ordination  oifered  by  Dr.  Fisk ;  the  charge  given  by 
Dr.  Allyn,  and  the  right  hand  of  fellowship  by  Mr.  Park- 
man.  The  day  of  his  ordination  was  one  which  could 
never  be  forgotten  by  any  of  those,  whose  interest  in  the 
occasion,  or  in  the  person,  was  such  as  to  lead  them 
to  associate  the  aspect  of  the  season  with  the  services 
in  which  they  were  engaged.  The  sun  was  bright,  the 
sky  clear  and  brilliant ;  and,  although  in  the  very  midst 
of  winter,  the  air  was  so  soft  and  mild  as  to  remind  one 
of  the  finest  weather  of  our  early  summer.  It  almost 
seemed  to  many,  who  were  most  deeply  interested  in  the 
event,  as  if,  through  the  smiling  face  of  nature.  Provi- 
dence were  indeed  bestowing  its  blessing  upon  a  con- 
nexion destined  to  be  so  happy  in  its  results  to  all  par- 
ties. Very  often  have  those  who  sat  under  his  ministry 
referred  in  after  times  to  the  remarkable  character  of 
the  day,  as  if  there  had  been  somethmg  in  it  prophetical 
of  the  many  prosperous  years  which  were  to  follow. 

The  Society,  over  which  Mr.  Ware  was  ordained, 
was  at  this  time  the  smallest  in  point  of  numbers,  and 
probably  the  least  opulent,  of  the  Unitarian  congrega- 
tions in  Boston."^ 

*  This  was  indicatcfl  by  the  small  amount  of  salary  which  was  at  first  paid, 
viz.,  twenty-five  dollars  a  week,  and  wood,  not  exceeding  thirty  cords  a  year. 


JR.  103 

To  use  the  words  of  his  successor  m  the  ministry, — • 

"  The  day  of  the  consecration  of  this  sacred  tie  mil  ever  be 
a  memorable  era  in  the  history  of  this  ancient  church.  For 
several  previous  years,  owing,  amongst  other  unfavorable  cir- 
cumstances, in  part  to  the  age  and  infirmities  of  Dr.  Lathrop, 
this  Society  had  suffered  a  material  diminution  of  numbers 
and  vitality.  But  God  had  henceforth  in  store  for  it  better 
things  than  even  the  glowing  anticipations  of  the  new  preach- 
er's most  sanguine  friends  ventured  to  predict.  Entering  upon 
his  arduous  work  with  no  startling  exhibitions  of  eloquence  or 
zeal,  with  no  straining  for  sudden  effect,  but  with  a  devoted 
purpose  to  be  laborious  and  faithful,  and  a  single  eye  to  the 
sacred  objects  of  the  ministry,  the  first  fruits  of  his  well-sus- 
tained efforts  gradually  and  steadily  ripened  around  him.  The 
spiritual  and  external  interests  of  the  parish  advanced  with  a 
regular  and  healthy  growth.  Another  golden  age,  like  that 
which  it  had  enjoyed  under  the  first  of  the  Mathers,  dawned 
upon  the  prospects  of  the  church.  The  throng  of  worshippers 
swelled  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath.  The  influence  of  the  pulpit 
became  more  powerful  and  deep,  hs  invitations  to  hohness 
became  more  persuasive ;  its  calls  to  duty  more  stirring ;  its 
appeals  to  the  conscience  more  pungent ;  its  discourses  to  the 
understanding  more  convincing;  its  addresses  to  the  affections 
more  constraining."  "  There  were  more  splendid  edifices 
than  these  old  walls.  There  were  more  wealthy  and  fashion- 
able and  highly  cultivated  congregations,  than  that  which 
gathered  around  him  with  attentive  faces  and  captivated  hearts. 
There  w^ere  more  graceful  rhetoricians  and  more  learned  theo- 
logians occupying  the  sacred  desk.  But  where  was  there  a 
temple  more  fragrant  with  the  breath  of  devotion,  more  beauti- 
ful with  the  spiritual  adornings  of  holiness  and  peace  ?  Where 
was  there  a  Society  more  harmonious  or  more  engaged  ?    And 

This  ^^'as  afterwards  increased  to  Si  800  per  annum  ;  and,  from  time  to  time, 
several  grants  were  made  to  him  by  distinct  votes  of  the  Society. 


104  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,  JR. 

wliere  was  the  preacher,  whose  whole  ah',  and  action,  and  tones, 
were  more  suited  to  the  messages  of  Heaven,  whose  discourses 
and  whose  prayers  had  more  power  of  moral  and  spiritual 
effect  ? "  ^ 

There  were  many  circumstances  in  his  new  situation 
which  made  it  a  peculiarly  desirable  and  happy  one  for 
him.  Boston  has  always  been  distinguished,  at  once 
for  the  high  character  of  its  clergymen,  and  for  the 
great  respect  in  which  they  have  been  held  by  the  com- 
munity in  which  they  lived.  A  place  here  has  therefore 
been  always  looked  upon  as  a  most  fortmiate  allotment. 
Here  also  he  was  surrounded,  both  in  the  town  and 
in  its  immediate  neighborhood,  by  a  large  number  of 
his  brethren  of  the  same  religious  sentiments  with  him- 
self, v/ith  whom  he  could  take  counsel,  and  on  whose 
support  he  could  depend.  Then  he  was  to  reside  in  the 
immediate  vicmity  of  the  places  of  his  birth  and  educa- 
tion, and  in  constant  connexion  with  all  the  members 
of  his  family.  Besides  all  these  advantages,  he  fomid 
in  the  character  of  the  parish  itself  a  source  of  satisfac- 
tion. It  was  composed  chiefly  of  individuals  of  the 
middle  portion  of  society ;  neither  the  very  poor,  nor  the 
very  rich ;  neither  the  very  ignorant,  nor  the  highly  cul- 
tivated ;  the  kind  of  people  whom  he  supposed  to  be 
most  likely  to  listen  readily  and  with  profit  to  his 
preachmg.  He  was  not  ambitious  of  being  the  minister 
of  a  Society  composed  of  persons  of  what  are  called  the 
higher  classes, — the  rich,  the  fashionable,  the  refined, 
the  intellectual.  He  was  diffident  of  his  ability  to  come 
up  to  their  standard  of  preaching,  or  of  adapting  him- 
self to  their  spiritual  wants.     His  subsequent  progress 

*"  Sermon  on  the  Death  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Ware,  Jr.    By  the  Rev 
Chandler  Robbins." 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  105 


shows,  that  he  undervalued  his  capacity,  and  that  he 
was  capable  of  producing  right  religious  impressions 
upon  one  class  as  well  as  upon  another.  But  this  feel- 
ing of  distrust,  before  he  had  made  trial  of  his  powers, 
was  not  unnatural.  The  following  letters  to  several 
persons,  though  somewhat  various  in  their  subjects,  dis- 
play very  Avell  the  state  of  mind,  on  this  and  many 
other  points,  with  which  he  entered  on  his  new  duties. 

to  the  rev.  j.  e.  abbot. 

"  Jan.  1817. 

"  Dear  Abbot, 

"  I  was  glad  to  receive  your  note  proposing  an  alteration  of 
our  arrangement,  for  I  shall  very  much  prefer  making  the 
exchange  on  the  third  Sabbath  of  February.  I  depend  upon 
seeing  you,  if  possible,  when  in  town  next  week.  I  take  this 
opportunity  to  tell  you  how  perfectly  happy  I  have  the  prospect 
of  being,  here.  The  situation  seems  exactly  suited  to  my 
wishes  and  habits.  I  say  this,  because  you  may  recollect  I 
was  rather  backward  in  answering  your  remark  the  other  day, 
that  this  was  to  be  preferred  to  any  other  parish  in  town.  I 
really  think  it  is ;  but  I  have  been  sometimes  a  little  mortified 
to  be  spoken  to  about  it,  as  if  I  was  disappointed  at  not  being 
invited  to .  People  have  very  kindly  made  compar- 
isons to  me,  demonstrating  that  that  was  not  a  very  desirable 
place.  Now  I  can  say  to  you,  though  I  could  not  to  every  one, 
that  I  am,  and  have  been,  of  the  same  opinion ;  yet,  when  folks 
talk  in  this  way  to  me,  I  must  hold  my  peace ;  for,  if  I  say 
what  I  think,  I  shall  be  thought  to  be  crying,  '  Sour  grapes.' 
I  feel  myself  now  among  my  equals ;  there  is  no  restraint  on 
my  feelings  and  my  intercourse  with  my  people ;  indeed,  I 
have  every  reason  for  gratitude  that  my  lot  is  so  pleasantly 
cast,  and  have  only  to  pray  that  I  may  be  faithful ;  and  may 
you  and  I,  my  dear  Abbot,  go  pleasantly  through  a  longer 


106  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

ministry  than  was  permitted  some  of  our  brethren,  and  yet  not 
be  so  happy,  as  to  receive  the  greater  part  of  our  reward  in 
this  world." 

"  Feb.  2,  1817. 
"  As  for  my  situation,  it  appears  to  be  everything  I  could 
wish.  I  have  every  prospect  of  being  happy  and  useful.  My 
people  are  all  in  the  middling  class,  many  families  exceedingly 
pleasant,  all  united  and  very  cordial  towards  me.  Indeed,  I 
am  afraid  only  of  being  too  happy.  '  We  should  suspect  some 
danger  near,  when  we  possess  delight ;'  so  singeth  Watts,  and 
with  some  truth.  It  is  of  no  use,  to  be  sure,  to  be  looking  out 
for  storms  when  the  sky  is  clear ;  yet,  I  confess,  I  look  with 
trembling  sometimes  on  the  perfect  freedom  I  enjoy  from 
everything  unpleasant  or  trying.  It  is  dangerous  to  have 
every  wish  gratified,  and  more  than  gratified." 

"  1817. 

"  Don't  take  these  hints  hardly  ;  you  know  I  mean  well.  I 
have  been  led  to  think  of  such  things  by  my  late  visits  in  my 
parish,  where,  seeing  so  many  in  quick  succession,  I  have  an 
opportunity  of  comparing  the  manners  of  different  people,  and 
of  noticing  their  effects  on  myself.  For  the  most  part,  I  have 
been  welcomed  with  an  ease  and  cordiality  most  gratifying ; 
cheerful,  smiling  faces,  and  an  extended,  eager  hand,  have 
greeted  me  at  my  entrance.  In  such  cases  the  impression  is 
always  favorable.  In  others,  however,  I  have  been  accosted 
as  we  accost  strangers  and  others  at  our  house, — no  advancing, 
no  welcome  in  loud  words,  no  smile,  no  outstretched  hand.  I 
have  been  chilled,  and  yet  I  have  had  no  reason  to  believe 
there  was  not  as  much  warmth  and  cordiality  at  bottom.  I 
have  in  this  way  learnt  to  behave  myself  better,  and  have  no 
doubt  my  demeanor  is  very  much  better  than  it  was  a  month 
ago. 

"  I  am  so  used  to  writing  sermons,  that  I  have  prosed  away 
here  most  unconscionably.     Let  me  now  talk,  if  I  can;  and, 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR.  107 

first  of  all,  let  me  tell  you  how  liappy  I  am ;  too  happy,  I  am 
afraid.  I  seem  to  have  come  into  exactly  the  spot  for  which  1 
am  suited,  and  among  exactly  the  people  with  whom  I  can  be 
happy.  And  from  all  I  can  learn,  directly  and  indirectly,  they 
are  inclined  to  an  affection  toward  me  greater  than  I  could 
hope.     I  have  only  to  pray  for  strength  to  do  my  duty." 

"  1817. 
"  The  duty  of  commemorating  our  Lord  in  the  Supper,  I 
think  we  are  not  enough  apt  to  consider  in  the  simple  and 
abstract  light  of  a   duty  which  we  must   perform,  and  for 
the  neglect  of  which  there  can  be  no  more  reasonable  excuse, 
than  for  the  neglect  of  prayer,  or  of  the  duties  of  social  life. 
We  always  think  more  of  it  than  we  ought,  in  connexion  with 
other  circumstances  and  events,  so  as  to  be  influenced  by  these 
quite  as  much  as  by  the  sense  of  duty ;  this  often  occasions 
embarrassment,  vv^hen,  by  attending  merely  to  the  latter  cir- 
cumstance, our  path  would  be  very  easy.     This,  to  be  sure,  is 
too  much  the  case  in  everything ;  but  I  have  found  it  particu- 
larly so  here,  and  am  myself  very  prone  so  to  speak  of  it  in 
my  conversation.     I  feel  that  this  is  wrong.     We  ought  to 
remember  it  is  a  requirement  of  us  as  Christians,  a  simple  tes- 
timonial of  our  faith  in  the  greatest  thing  the  Deity  has  done 
for  man,  and  a  token  of  regard  and  gratitude,  and  pledge  of 
love,  to  the  best  friend  of  our  race.     If  Jesus  has  indeed  done 
all  that  we  believe,  we  cannot  easily  excuse  ourselves  for  neg- 
lecting to  acknowledge  it ;  we  shall  almost  feel  a  spontaneous 
desire  to  do  it ;  and,  as  he  has  prescribed  a  method  in  which  it 
should  be  done,  it  is  nothing  more  than  obedience  to  the  hu- 
man feeling  of  gratitude,  and  the  command  of  our  Sovereio-n 
at  the  same  time,  to  come  to  his  table  in  his  name.     We  have 
already  in  our  own  bosoms  felt  and  acknowledged  the  claims 
and  obligations  of  the  Gospel;  these  claims  and  obligations 
cannot  be  greater  after  our  professing  them,  than  they  are 
before.     This,  I  think,  is  the  proper  way  of  considering  the 


108  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,  JR. 

subject ;  nothing  can  be  more  simple,  and  nothing  approves 
itself  more  readily  to  a  rational  mind,  even  if  it  were  not  a 
prescribed  duty. 

"  Then,  again,  if  we  consider  the  ordinance  in  the  light  of 
an  exercise  of  our  pious  feelings  ;  and  consider  how  naturally 
this  contemplating  the  life,  instructions,  death  and  promises  of 
Jesus  Christ,  has  a  tendency  to  strengthen  these  feelings,  and 
increase  our  faith  in  his  gospel,  and  make  it  dearer  to  us,  by 
calling  up  to  our  thoughts  his  character,  and  the  imitation  of 
it  he  requires  in  us, — to  lead  us  to  a  resemblance  of  him  in 
his  meekness,  purity,  benevolence,  amiableness,  and  other 
traits,  which  make  him  the  most  delightful  of  all  characters 
we  can  contemplate  ; — I  say,  if  we  consider  its  operation  as  a 
means  to  effect  all  this,  we  shall  see  its  value  more  clearly, 
and  be  more  desirous  of  putting  ourselves  within  its  influence. 
It  undoubtedly  has  a  great  effect  in  cherishing  piety  and  benev- 
olence, not  necessarily  and  miraculously,  but  by  its  natural 
influence  over  those  who  seriously  attend  it.  These  are  my 
views  on  the  subject ;  I  believe  you  will  fall  in  with  them,  and, 
if  you  do,  you  will,  I  doubt  not,  (and  that  you  may,  you  have 
my  earnest  prayers,)  experience  a  good  deal  of  satisfaction  in 
the  performance  of  the  duty.  Many  laugh  at  it,  and  at  us, 
because  they  imagine  we  attribute  to  it  some  mysterious, 
supernatural,  sanctifying  efficacy.  We  attribute  to  it  no  such 
thing;  we  believe  nothing  concerning  it, — Jesus  Christ  and 
the  Apostles  have  taught  us  to  believe  nothing  concerning  it, 
— ^but  what  is  perfectly  reasonable  and  agreeable  to  all  we 
know  of  the  operation  of  things  and  events  upon  our  feelings 
and  characters  in  the  usual  administration  of  the  government 
of  Providence.  Those  who  sneer  at  us,  as  practising  an  un- 
meaning and  superstitious  form,  know  nothing  of  what  we  do, 
and  have  mistaken  the  ravings  of  some  half-crazy  enthusiasts 
for  the  doctrine  of  the  New  Testament." 


CHAPTER    YI. 

HIS  VIEWS  OF  PASTORAL  DUTY-VARIOUS  LABORS-HIS  MARRIAGP 
AND  PLACE  OF  RESIDENCE-DEATH  OF  MR.  THOMAS'  PRENTISS- 
SICKNESS    AND    DEATH    OF    MR.    JOHN    E.  ABBOT  ^^^^TISS- 

1817-1818,     ;ET.  23-24. 

He  began  his  ministry  full  of  plans  for  usefulness, 
andeager  ni  the  search  of  means  for  improving  thereli- 
gious  character  of  those  who  were  placed  under  his 
charge.      Among  his  earliest  duties,  as  he  conceived 
was  to  form  a  personal  acquaintance  with  all  the  mem- 
bers of  his  parish  and  their  families;  to  learn  their  con- 
dition, to  interest  himself  in  their  aifairs,  and  especially 
in  their  children.     He  considered  it  as  very  important 
not  only  to  form,  but  to  keep  up  this  acquaintance  by 
an  mtmiate  and  sufficiently  frequent  intercourse.     He 
had  a  decided  opinion  of  the  value  of  this  relation  of  a 
clergyman  to  his  people.     He  felt  that  it  gave  him  a 
hold  on  their  minds,  which  imparted  double  force  to  the 
mstructions  of  the  pulpit.     He  thought  that  he  ought 
to  be  so  familiar  with  them,  and  with  their  characters 
and  concerns,  that  he  should  be  regarded  by  them  as  a 
friend,  who  rejoiced  with  them  when  they  rejoiced  and 
mourned  with  them  when  they  mourned.      He  well 
knew  that  the  same  teaching  on  the  Sabbath,  which 
would  fall  powerless  from  the  lips  of  a  stranger,  would 
enter  deeply  into  hearts  that  were  warmed  and  opened 


110  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

to  the  speaker  by  the  holy  sympathies  of  a  personal 
Christian  intercourse.  No  doubt  the  constant  pressure 
of  other  occupations,  the  great  variety  of  calls  which 
were  made  on  his  time  and  attention,  both  in  and  out 
of  his  parish,  and  the  very  uncertain  and  languid  state 
of  his  health,  which  so  often  made  the  requisite  bodily 
exertion  a  great  effort,  prevented  him  from  acting  up  to 
his  intentions  in  this  particular,  and  from  accomplishing 
what  he  regarded  as  the  full  measure  of  his  duty.  He 
often  felt  and  expressed  something  like  self-reproach  at 
what  he  feared  had  been  his  remissness  in  this  respect. 
Still,  even  in  the  degree  m  which  he  Avas  able  to  fol- 
low out  his  convictions,  he  found  reason  to  believe  that 
his  personal  intercourse  contributed  very  much  to  his 
usefulness  as  a  minister,  and  to  the  efficacy  of  his 
preaching. 

He  was  especially  attentive  in  times  of  sickness  and 
affliction ;  judging  that  at  such  seasons  right  impressions 
are  most  likely  to  be  made,  good  influences  received, 
and  an  interest  excited  in  religion.  But  he  was  not  for- 
ward, in  his  parochial  visits,  (I  speak  from  the  state- 
ments of  a  highly  esteemed  member  of  his  parish,)  to 
introduce  religion  as  a  subject  of  conversation  at  any 
rate  and  as  a  matter  of  course,  without  regard  to  the 
proprieties  of  the  occasion.  ''  He  never  was  in  the 
habit  of  forcing  the  conversation  to  take  a  religious 
turn :  but  he  was  ever  ready  to  allow  it  to  do  so."  Reli- 
gious impressions  were  the  indirect,  and  not  the  direct, 
purpose  of  his  famiUar  visits.  He  had  no  air  of  formal- 
ity in  the  houses  of  his  parishioners,  or  in  their  sick 
chambers.  He  did  not  talk  much,  or  harangue,  on  sub- 
jects of  consolation.  A  few  words  of  interest  or  of 
comfort,  a  few  suggestions,  m  n  mild  manner  and  a  gen- 


LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  Ill 

tie  tone  of  voice,  were  all  that  he  usually  indulged  in. 
Indeed,  he  felt  great  reluctance  at  the  expression  of  feel- 
ings of  any  intensity ;  and  so  great  was  the  difficulty  in 
bringing  himself  to  it,  that  he  was  sometimes  deterred 
from  visiting,  in  cases  of  very  deep  distress,  from  the 
feeling  of  utter  incapacity  to  express  in  words  anything 
of  that  sympathy  which  he  felt.  The  following  pas- 
sage from  a  letter,  written  at  this  period  to  a  very  dear 
friend,  laboring  under  severe  affliction,  shows  how 
clearly  he  had  detected  the  existence  of  this  peculi- 
arity. 

"  I  want  to  give  you  consolation  ;  yet,  when 

I  am  with  you,  I  have  found  my  lips  sealed.  I  know  not, 
indeed,  whether  this  is  not  best.  If  the  case  were  my  own,  I 
think  I  should  want  no  sympathy  but  that  of  silence.  '  The 
heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,'  and  I  feel  confidence  that 
you,  acquainted  as  you  are  with  sorrow,  will  go  to  the  effect- 
ual sources  of  consolation. 

"  My  father's  dislike  of  ostentation  in  rehgion  has,  I  fear, 
had  upon  me  an  injurious  effect.  It  has  made  me  silent  on 
the  subject,  backward  to  introduce  it ;  has  made  it  difficult  for 
me  to  speak  of  it  with  v/armth,  much  as  I  love  it ;  so  I  often 
am,  and  shall  be,  placed  in  unpleasant  situations  on  this 
account.  It  is,  however,  dislike  of  cant,  as  well  as  of  osten- 
tation ;  there  is  a  common-place  chit-chat  on  the  subject 
which  is  offensive,  and  from  a  dread  of  that  I  am  apt  to  say 
nothing.  Yet  certainly  the  providence  of  God,  and  a  future 
state,  are  themes  too  elevated  and  glorious  to  be  ashamed  of. 
But  we  feel  as  if  we  could  not  speak  of  them  without  debasino- 
them. 

"  It  is  not  wrong  for  you  to  mourn  and  feel  desolate.  I  am 
always  indignant  at  one  who  chides  a  mourner.  Neither  is  it 
wrong  to  cherish  so  dearly  the  memory  of  your  departed 
friends.     If  the  objects  of  our  affection  are  worthy,  then  I 


112  LIFE   OF   HENRY  WARE,    JR. 

think  it  right  to  love  them  warmly.  It  would  not  be  if  death 
separated  us  forever ;  but,  as  virtuous  friendships  commenced 
here  shall  be  continued  and  perfected  hereafter,  why  should 
we  be  forbidden  to  form  them  ?  I  think  I  cannot  love  a  efood 
person  too  fervently,  provided  I  love  him /or  his  good  qualities, 
and  can  feel  wilHng  that  he,  like  everything  else,  should  be  dis- 
posed of  according  to  the  pleasure  of  Heaven.  It  is  true  we 
must  part ;  but  I  believe,  as  God  is  good,  no  virtuous  affection 
or  feeling  can  be  lost ;  and  I  am  sure  nothing  would  tempt  me 
to  love  my  father  less,  so  long  as  I  look  forward  to  the  time 
when  he  shall  be  an  heir  of  glory,  and  I  shall  be  incited  to 
strive  to  be  fit  to  meet  him  in  heaven." 

He  very  well  knew,  that  it  is  upon  the  young  of  his 
congregation,  that  the  minister  is  to  expect  to  produce 
the  most  decided  impression, — especially  when  he  is 
himself  young.  Among  the  first  objects  of  his  attention, 
therefore,  were  services  intended  for  their  special  im- 
provement. Very  early  in  his  ministry  he  became  inter- 
ested in  the  establishment  of  a  Sunday  School  in  the 
northern  section  of  the  town,  and  in  various  other  ways 
engaged  himself  in  the  religious  instruction  of  the  chil- 
dren of  his  own  flock.  One  of  his  exercises  was  intro- 
duced to  those  for  whom  it  was  intended  by  the  fol- 
lowing sketch. 

"  Plan  for  a  Society  among  the  Young  Ladies  of  the 
Second  Church. 
"  There  are  advantages  to  be  derived  from  familiar  conver- 
sation on  religious  subjects  which  cannot  be  derived  from 
public  preaching.  Much  information  may  be  imparted  re- 
specting the  Christian  religion,  and  much  explanation  of  the 
sacred  Scriptures,  in  private  meetings,  which  cannot  w^ell  be 
given  from  the  pulpit.  Devotional  feelings  may  be  excited  and 
cherished ;  ardor  in  religious  things  promoted ;  and  we  may 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR.  113 

do  much  to  quicken  one  another  in  the  discipline  of  Hfe,  and 
improve  one  another  in  the  Christian  graces.  We  can  pro- 
voke one  another  to  good  works. 

"  In  order  to  do  this,  I  wish  to  propose  that  some  of  the 
young  ladies  of  the  Society  should  unite  themselves  to  hold 
regular  meetings  for  this  purpose.  What  is  most  to  be  desired 
is  such  a  knowledge  of  the  New  Testament  as  shall  teach  its 
meaning  and  spirit,  lead  us  to  love  lo  read  it,  to  understand  it, 
and  to  live  by  it.  Let  the  object  of  the  Society  be,  therefore, 
to  study  the  New  Testament.  We  will  commence  with  one 
book.  Let  the  ladies  make  themselves  familiar  with  a  certain 
portion,  reading  such  books  in  connexion  with  it  as  they  can 
obtain.  AVe  will  then  read  it  together.  I  will  make  such 
observations  as  may  tend  to  explain  difficult  passages.  We 
will  converse  upon  them,  any  one  asking  questions,  and  mak- 
ing remarks,  with  the  utmost  freedom ;  and  I  will  read  from 
books  observations  on  such  subjects  as  may  be  naturally 
started  in  the  course  of  conversation. 

"  In  some  such  way  as  this,  I  doubt  not  we  may  spend  an 
hour  once  a  fortnight  very  pleasantly,  and  very  properly ;  and 
I  shall  be  happy  to  be  thus  able  to  acquaint  myself  more  inti- 
mately with  the  young  people  of  my  flock,  and  assist  them  in 
becoming  Christians." 

He  carried  into  effect  a  plan  for  a  regular  meeting  on 
some  evening  of  ea.ch  week,  among  the  male  members 
of  his  congregation,  chiefly  the  younger  part  of  them, 
for  social  conversation  and  discussion  on  religious  sub- 
jects. This  began  by  small  gatherings  at  his  own 
house,  where  there  Avas  little  formality,  and  the  inter- 
change of  opinions  was  carried  on  in  a  very  familiar 
way.  Afterwards,  as  these  meetings  attracted  more 
notice,  and  the  interest  in  them  increased,  they  were 
held  in  a  room  in  the  upper  story  of  the  tower  of  the  old 
10=^ 


114  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WAKE,  JR. 

church,  capable  of  containmg  one  hundred  and  fifty  or 
two  hundred  persons.  This  had  been  usually  occupied 
as  a  place  for  the  rehearsals  of  the  singing  choir,  but 
was  now  made  to  answer  the  purposes  of  a  vestry.  It 
was  often  crowded,  and  on  some  occasions  the  assem- 
bly adjourned  to  the  church.  These  exercises  were 
especially  attractive  to  young  persons;  and  many,  of 
both  sexes,  who  were  in  the  habit  of  attending  them, 
became  in  this  way  the  subjects  of  permanent  religious 
impressions.  After  a  time,  a  weekly  lecture  in  the  same 
room  took  the  place  of  these  meetings.  This,  in  like 
manner,  proved  peculiarly  attractive  to  young  persons, 
and  was  especially  attended  by  a  larger  proportion  of 
young  men  than  are  commonly  present  on  such  occa- 
sions. It  was  the  case  throughout  his  ministry,  that 
not  only  these  lectures,  but  the  services  of  the  Sabbath, 
were  found  to  draw  together  an  unusual  number  of  this 
class  of  hearers,  who,  from  time  to  time,  as  they  settled 
in  hfe,  became  permanent  members  of  the  congrega- 
tion. 

Such  private  services  were,  if  it  be  proper  to  use  such 
a  term,  raore  decidedly  a  source  of  enjoyment  to  my 
brother,  than  those  of  a  more  formal  character.  On 
these  occasions  he  felt  greater  freedom  in  communicat- 
ing himself  He  seemed  to  feel  nearer  to  his  audience, 
and  opened  his  heart  to  them  with  a  fulness  and  ear- 
nestness which  made  their  way  more  directly  to  the 
hearts  of  his  hearers.  The  following  passage,  from  the 
Sermon  I  have  already  quoted,  refers  to  his  recollec- 
tions of  these  exercises,  and  displays  also  the  warmth 
of  feeling  with  which  he  looked  back,  even  near  the 
close  of  his  life,  to  the  scenes  and  incidents  of  his  early 
ministry. 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR.  115 

"  In  one  of  the  last  conversations  which  I  held  with  Mr. 
Ware,  his  thoughts ,  as  was  always  the  case  when  we  were 
together,  reverted  to  his  old  parish ;  but  on  that  occasion  with 
more  than  usual  interest.  I  had  never  heard  him  express  his 
affection,  for  it  so  warmly.  There  was  an  unwonted  tender- 
ness in  his  tones.  The  pent-up  feelings  of  years  seemed  to 
pour  forth  in  a  few  glowing  words.  The  habitual  reserve 
which  covered  the  strong  emotions,  whose  existence  in  his 
bosom  no  one  could  doubt,  was  for  the  time  forgotten.  The 
veil,  that  spread  before  the  sacred  treasures  of  his  soul,  was 
for  a  moment  lifted  up.  He  told  me  of  those  persons  and 
scenes  whose  images  were  nearest  to  his  heart.  He  told  me 
of  those  hours  and  occasions  of  his  ministry  which  were  of 
dearest  remembrance.  And  amongst  them  all,  and,  as  he  said, 
most  beautiful  and  precious  of  all,  were  the  friends  who  had 
stood  near  him  in  that  humble  room,  and*  the  evenings  that 
were  there  spent  in  social  devotion.  I  shall  never  forget  the  em- 
phasis with  which  he  said,  '-The  two  happiest  evenings  of  my 
life,'  and  repeated,  '  yes,  the  two  happiest  of  my  life  were,  one 
of  them,  when  we  had  met  to  converse  upon  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per, and  the  vestry  was  so  full  that  we  were  obliged  to  adjourn 
to  the  church;  and  the  other,  when,  after  an  interesting  dis- 
cussion, we  sang  together  at  parting,  as  if  every  soul  present 
felt  the  grandeur  and  joyousness  of  the  sentiment,  the  hymn 
which  concludes  with  this  glorious  verse,'  which  he  then 
repeated : 

"  '  Then  let  our  songs  abound, 
And  every  tear  be  dry  ; 
We  're  marching  through  Immanuel's  ground 
To  fairer  worlds  on  high.'  " 

At  the  time  of  his  ordination,  and  till  his  marriage, 
my  brother  boarded  in  the  family  of  Mrs.  Burditt,  a 
highly  respectable  member  of  his  church,  who  resided 
m   Back  Street,  now  Salem  Street,  directly  opposite 


116  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

Stillman  Street.  In  the  October  after  his  ordination,  he 
was  married  to  Miss  Elizabeth  Watson  ^Yaterhouse,  the 
daughter  of  Dr.  Benjamin  Waterhouse,  of  Cambridge,  a 
lady  with  whom  he  had  been  intimately  acquainted 
from  childhood,  and  for  whom  he  had  many  y^ars  en- 
tertained a  very  warm  regard.*  On  his  marriage,  he 
moved  into  a  house  in  Bennet  Street,  often  called  North 
School  Street,  at  a  very  short  distance  from  his  church. 
This  part  of  the  city  was  then  far  less  eligible  as  a 
residence,  than  it  has  since  become ;  and  many  of  his 
friends  urged  his  selection  of  a  more  agreeable  place  of 
abode.  But  he  decidedly  preferred  to  live  in  the  midst 
of  his  people.  ''His,"  as  he  said,  "was  a  North-End 
parish,  and  he  must  be  a  North-End  man."  Nor  could 
he  be  afterwards  .persuaded  to  remove  to  a  different  part 
of  the  town,  even  when,  by  the  changes  in  and  acces- 
sions to  his  parish,  a  very  large  portion  of  it  came  at 
length,  as  it  continues  now,  to  be  composed  of  inhab- 
itants of  other  sections. 

In  the  course  of  the  same  year  other  events  occurred, 
which  in  different  ways  were  deeply  interesting  to  him, 
and  produced  powerful  and  permanent  impressions  on 
his  mind.  Very  soon  after  his  own  ordination  he  was 
called  to  take  a  part  in  that  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Pren- 
tiss, over  a  church  in  Charles  town.  Mr.  Prentiss  had 
been  his  contemporary  and  fellow-student  at  Cambridge, 
both  before  and  after  graduation.  They  had  pursued 
their  studies  in  divinity  together ;  they  had  entered  the 
profession  very  nearly  at  the  same  time,  and  entertained 
a  strong  mutual  regard.  The  settlement  of  Mr.  Pren- 
tiss, as  so  near  a  neighbor,  was  a  most  grateful  circum- 

*  The  children  by  this  marriage  were  two  sons  and  a  daughter.    One  son 
died  in  infancy. 


LIFE   OF   HENRY  WARE,    JR.  117 

Stance  to  both  of  them ;  and  they  had  naturally  looked 
forward  to  many  years  of  mmisterial  intercourse  and 
of  friendly  cooperation  in  their  plans  of  usefulness. 
These  hopes  were  not  to  be  fulfilled.  In  September, 
Mr.  Prentiss  was  seized  with  fever,  and  died  after  a 
very  short  sickness,  whilst  his  friend,  who  had  so  re- 
cently welcomed  him  to  the  fellowship  of  the  churches, 
was  called  upon  to  pay  the  customary  tribute  to  his 
memory  at  his  funeral.  The  sermon  preached  on  this 
occasion  was  the  first  publication  of  Mr.  Ware  after  his 
ordination,  and  indeed  Avas  the  only  occasion  of  his 
appearing  in  print  during  the  first  two  years  of  his  min- 
istry. He  writes  thus  to  an  absent  sister  concerning 
this  event,  which  occurred  about  the  time  of  the  preva- 
lence of  a  very  fatal  epidemic  in  Cambridge. 

"Sept.  1817. 
"  As  you  seem  anxious  about  Cambridge,  I  will  say,  the 
sickness  has  abated,  and  neither  of  the  children  has  been  sick 
since  Charles.  That  our  large  family  should  have  escaped  is 
a  subject  of  great  gratitude,  and  I  hope  you  do  not  forget  it  in 
your  daily  prayers.  You  have  doubtless  seen,  by  the  paper, 
that  Mr.  Prentiss,  of  Charlestown,  is  dead.  It  was  a  most 
severe  and  sudden  affliction  ;  he  was  sick  of  the  typhus  fever 
but  eleven  days,  and  most  of  the  time  delirious,  so  that  when 
I  called  I  could  not  see  him.  He  died  at  twelve  o'clock  on 
Saturday  night ;  and  on  Sunday  morning  before  breakfast  I 
w^ent  over  to  his  lodgings,  and  saw  his  mother,  weeping  but  in 

the  attitude  of  resignation,  Miss  B in  the  utmost  distress, 

and  many  friends  in  lamentation.  He  was  a  worthy  man  and 
good  Christian  ;  he  had  done  his  duty,  and  has  left  few  behind 
who  will  be  more  active  and  faithful  in  doing  good,  or  would 
be  more  affectionately  remembered.  Warnings  are  multiplied 
on  warmngs,  and  we  must  be  ready,  my  dear  Harriet,  to  meet 


118  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

whatever  may  befall  us  or  our  friends.  Three  young  men, 
about  to  be  connected  with  Cambridge  ladies,  have  been  within 
a  few  weeks  snatched  away ;  there  may  be  a  fourth.  I  am 
not  superstitious,  but  I  do  not  expect  at  most  to  live  many 
years,  and  may  live  many  years  fewer  than  I  expect.  I  can  only 
pray  that  I  may  be  spared  till  I  am  fit  to  go,  and  that  I  may 
never  cease  to  make  my  friends  happy." 

In  the  same  year,  also,  began  the  fatal  disease  of 
another  very  near  friend  and  brother  in  the  profession, 
John  Emery  Abbot,  to  whom  allusion  has  already  been 
made,  and  who  was  now  pastor  of  a  church  in  Salem. 
Mr.  Abbot  was  to  my  brother  an  object  of  peculiar 
affection,  and  the  prospect  of  his  loss  was  a  very  sad 
and  melancholy  one.  He  thus  speaks  of  him  in  letters 
written  at  the  commencement  of  this  sickness  to  his 
brother-in-law,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Allen,  of  Northborough. 

^'Dec.  1,  1817. 

"  I  spent  the  Sabbath  preceding  yesterday  with  brother 
Abbot  in  Salem.  His  situation  is  truly  most  alarming. 
A  violent  cough  which  yields  to  nothing,  profuse  night  sweats, 
and  extreme  weakness  are  his  symptoms.  The  physicians 
give  very  little  encouragement,  and  those  friends,  who  know 
most  of  his  situation,  think  his  case  almost  hopeless.  I  saw 
him  but  a  few  minutes ;  he  was  not  permitted  to  speak,  but 
insisted  on  talking  to  me,  and  therefore  I  left  the  room.  He 
sat  on  a  sofa,  iipheld  by  pillows,  met  me  with  a  smile,  and,  I 
am  told,  maintains  an  unbroken  serenity  and  cheerfulness. 
I  could  have  said  it  would  be  so  with  Abbot ;  he  is  as  much  a 
real  and  perfect  Christian  as  I  know.  Sickness  and  death 
will  not  dismay  him.  God  grant  we  may  not  lose  his  example, 
for  I  do  think  it  is  much  to  us." 


LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  119 


"March,  1818. 

"  Brother  Parkman  was  at  Salem  last  Sunday,  and  tells  me, 
respecting  Abbot,  that  his  friends  are  considerably  encouraged. 
He  gains  strength,  and,  though  danger  is  not  all  past,  because 
his  fever  continues,  yet  they  are  planning  for  him  a  removal 
to  Exeter.  I  know  not  an  event  for  which  I  could  be  more 
sincerely  grateful 

"  I  wrote  the  above  some  days  ago,  and  now  have  to  add, 
with  a  heavy  heart,  the  tidings  that  brother  Abbot  has  relapsed  ; 
his  unfavorable  symptoms  have  returned,  and  with  them  have 
vanished  all  the  hopes  of  his  friends.  God's  will  be  done. 
This  loss,  however,  will  be  long  feh ;  but  it  must  teach  us 
(I  hope  the  application  is  not  irreverent)  '  to  purify  ourselves 
even  as  he  is  pure.'  We  hear,  also,  from  Exeter,  that  Mr. 
Hurd  is  attacked  with  complaints  threatening  to  terminate  in 
consumption  ;  it  is  thought,  indeed,  that  he  is  already  past 
hope.  Add  to  this,  we  are  in  daily  expectation  of  hearing  of 
the  death  of  Dr.  McKean,  who,  by  the  last  account,  was  just 
wavering  on  the  brink  of  the  grave.  And  you  have  seen  by 
the  papers,  that  Mr.  Thacher  has  already  departed  ;  a  man 
never  to  be  spoken  of  without  love  and  admiration  ;  whose 
loss  to  the  cause  of  simple  Christianity  and  practical  religion 
is  greater  than  that  of  almost  any  man  that  could  be  named  ; 
who  has  not  left  behind  him  a  man  exhibiting  in  his  character 
so  rare  a  union  of  many  qualities,  any  one  of  which  would  be 
sufficient  to  ensure  respect.  When  I  think  of  the  early  de- 
parture of  such  men,  I  feel  more  and  more  the  reality  of  that 
future  state,  in  which  they  may  finish  the  labors  they  could 
only  commence  here.  It  is  the  only  thing  which,  to  human 
eyes,  can  '  vindicate  the  ways  of  God.'  " 

This  attack,  however,  did  not  produce  so  immediate 
a  termination  of  Mr.  Abbot's  life  as  there  seemed  then 
reason  to  anticipate.  He  rallied  sufficiently  to  excite  in 
his  friends  those  flattering  hopes  of  ultimate  recovery, 


118  LIFE    OF    HENFvY    WARE.    JR. 

wliatever  may  befall  us  or  our  friends.  Three  young  men, 
about  to  be  connected  with  Cambridge  ladies,  have  been  within 
a  few  weeks  snatched  away ;  there  may  be  a  fourth.  I  am 
not  superstitious,  but  I  do  not  expect  at  most  to  live  many 
years,  and  may  live  many  years  fewer  than  I  expect.  I  can  only 
pray  that  I  may  be  spared  till  I  am  fit  to  go,  and  that  I  may 
never  cease  to  make  my  friends  happy." 

In  the  same  year,  also,  began  the  fatal  disease  of 
another  very  near  friend  and  brother  in  the  profession, 
John  Emery  Abbot,  to  whom  allusion  has  already  been 
made,  and  who  was  now  pastor  of  a  church  in  Salem. 
Mr.  Abbot  was  to  my  brother  an  object  of  peculiar 
affection,  and  the  prospect  of  his  loss  was  a  very  sad 
and  melancholy  one.  He  thus  speaks  of  him  in  letters 
written  at  the  commencement  of  this  sickness  to  his 
brother-in-law,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Allen,  of  Northborough. 

"Dec.  1,  1817. 

"  I  spent  the  Sabbath  preceding  yesterday  with  brother 
Abbot  in  Salem.  His  situation  is  truly  most  alarming. 
A  violent  cough  which  yields  to  nothing,  profuse  night  sweats, 
and  extreme  weakness  are  his  symptoms.  The  physicians 
give  very  little  encouragement,  and  those  friends,  who  know 
most  of  his  situation,  think  his  case  almost  hopeless.  I  saw 
him  but  a  few  minutes ;  he  was  not  permitted  to  speak,  but 
insisted  on  talking  to  me,  and  therefore  I  left  the  room.  He 
sat  on  a  sofa,  upheld  by  pillows,  met  me  with  a  smile,  and,  I 
am  told,  maintains  an  unbroken  serenity  and  cheerfulness. 
I  could  have  said  it  would  be  so  with  Abbot ;  he  is  as  much  a 
real  and  perfect  Christian  as  I  know.  Sickness  and  death 
will  not  dismay  him.  God  grant  we  may  not  lose  his  example, 
for  I  do  think  it  is  much  to  us." 


LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  119 


"March,  1818. 

"  Brother  Parkman  was  at  Salem  last  Sunday,  and  tells  me, 
respecting  Abbot,  that  his  friends  are  considerably  encouraged. 
He  gains  strength,  and,  though  danger  is  not  all  past,  because 
his  fever  continues,  yet  they  are  planning  for  him  a  removal 
to  Exeter.  I  know  not  an  event  for  which  I  could  be  more 
sincerely  grateful 

"  I  wrote  the  above  some  days  ago,  and  now  have  to  add, 
with  a  heavy  heart,  the  tidings  that  brother  Abbot  has  relapsed  ; 
his  unfavorable  symptoms  have  returned,  and  with  them  have 
vanished  all  the  hopes  of  his  friends.  God's  will  be  done. 
This  loss,  however,  will  be  long  felt ;  but  it  must  teach  us 
(I  hope  the  application  is  not  irreverent)  '  to  purify  ourselves 
even  as  he  is  pure.'  We  hear,  also,  from  Exeter,  that  Mr. 
Hurd  is  attacked  with  complaints  threatening  to  terminate  in 
consumption  ;  it  is  thought,  indeed,  that  he  is  already  past 
hope.  Add  to  this,  we  are  in  daily  expectation  of  hearing  of 
the  death  of  Dr.  McKean,  who,  by  the  last  account,  was  just 
wavering  on  the  brink  of  the  grave.  And  you  have  seen  by 
the  papers,  that  Mr.  Thacher  has  already  departed ;  a  man 
never  to  be  spoken  of  without  love  and  admiration ;  whose 
loss  to  the  cause  of  simple  Christianity  and  practical  religion 
is  greater  than  that  of  almost  any  man  that  could  be  named  : 
who  has  not  left  behind  him  a  man  exhibiting  in  his  character 
so  rare  a  union  of  many  qualities,  any  one  of  which  would  be 
sufficient  to  ensure  respect.  When  I  think  of  the  early  de- 
parture of  such  men,  I  feel  more  and  more  the  reality  of  that 
future  state,  in  which  they  may  finish  the  labors  they  could 
only  commence  here.  It  is  the  only  thing  which,  to  human 
eyes,  can  '  vindicate  the  ways  of  God.'  " 

This  attack,  however,  did  not  produce  so  immediate 
a  termination  of  Mr.  Abbot's  life  as  there  seemed  then 
reason  to  anticipate.  He  rallied  sufficiently  to  excite  in 
his  friends  those  flattering  hopes  of  ultimate  recovery, 


120  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,  JR. 

with  which  the  disease  that  had  prostra1;ed  him  is  so 
apt  to  delude ;  and  he  became  well  enough  to  bear  a 
removal  to  his  father's  house,  where  he  passed  the  ensu- 


TO    THE    REV.    J.    E.    ABBOT. 

''Aug.  ISIS. 
"  My  DEAR  Friend, 

"  h  is  many,  many  weeks  since  I  saw  you ;  but  I  often 
think  of  you,  and  rejoice  in  every  hope  of  your  restoration  to 
health.  There  was  a  time  when  we  thought  it  was  com- 
manded you  speedily  to  join  the  company  of  those  who  had 
entered  on  their  reward,  and  we  offered  our  prayers  for  you, 
fearing  that  they  would  come  back  empty.  But  we  thank  God 
for  the  hope,  that  you  may  yet  labor  with  us  upon  earth,  and 
that  the  large  company  of  your  friends  shall  not  yet  be  called  to 
mourning.  Thacher  is  gone,  and  others  stand  feebly  in  their 
places ;  so  that  we  are  doubly  grateful  for  every  one  who  is 
threatened,  and  yet  spared.  I  dare  say  that  you  have  felt  as 
much  thankfulness  on  account  of  the  sickness  itself  as  on 
account  of  its  removal,  because  you  must  have  found  it  a  most 
salutary  discipline ;  and,  if  you  are  a  gainer,  ive  will  be  sat- 
isfied. I  do  not  know  exactly  how  you  are  at  present.  When 
I  heard  last,  you  were  still  gaining,  but  slowly.  I  am  hoping, 
that  ere  long  you  will  be  able  to  show  yourself  to  your  friends 
here  ;  all  will  give  you  a  hearty  welcome,  and  none  more 
hearty  than  myself.  I  long  to  show  you  my  dearest  friend ; 
and,  if  it  be  not  best  that  I  should  be  disappointed,  I  shall  at 
the  same  time  show  you  the  beginning  of  a  little  family,  that 
is  to  increase  my  joys  and  my  privileges  greatly. 

"  Greenwood  is  soon  to  fill  Mr.  Thacher's  place  ;  he  is 
really  a  delightful  preacher,  and  has  excited  very  uncommon 
attention." 

In  the  fall  of  this  year  there  seemed  sufficient  improve- 
ment to  justify  the  experiment  of  a  removal  to  a  warmer 


JR.  121 

climatej  and  Mr.  Abbot  accordingly  spent  the  winter 
in  Havana.  While  there  his  complaints  again  increased, 
and  he  teturned  home  only  to  linger  through  the  sum- 
mer, and  die  in  the  following  October. 

The  friendship  between  these  two  young  men,  which, 
though  of  so  short  a  continuance,  was  of  so  strong  a 
character,  is  the  more  interesting  from  the  uncommon 
similarity  that  existed  between  them  in  their  persons, 
their  manners,  and  their  characters.  Of  their  personal 
resemblance,  there  Avere  some  very  striking  evidences. 
When  Mr.  Ware  first  went  to  Exeter  to  reside,  on  going 
to  Dr.  Abbot's  house,  he  was,  to  his  great  surprise  and 
almost  consternation,  familiarly  seized  upon,  and  most 
cordially  welcomed,  by  some  of  the  family,  who  had 
mistaken  him  for  Mr.  Abbot.  The  mistake  here  was 
only  amusing ;  but,  after  Mr.  Abbot's  death,  a  similar 
one  occurred  under  circumstances,  which,  at  the  time, 
produced  a  more  serious  impression. 

to  mr.  allen. 

"July  17,  1820. 
"  Walking  in  the  Mall  a  few  days  ago,  a  young  man  came 
up  and  shook  me  eagerly  by  the  hand,  saying,  '  Hoio  do  you 
do,  Mr.  Abbot  ?  '     I  looked  at  him  a  moment,  still  holding  his 

hand,  and  he  said,  '  My  name  is ;  I  suppose  you  don't 

remember  me  ,  I  saw  you  when  you  were  sick  at  Havana.' 
I  was  exceedingly  struck.  He  was  surprised  to  hear  of 
Abbot's  death,  and  could  scarcely  believe  I  was  not  he."  ^ 

*  The  strong  resemblance  in  character  is  noticed  in  a  striking  manner,  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Brazer,  the  successor  of  Mr.  Abbot,  in  a  sermon  preached  by  him 
on  the  Sunday  after  the  funeral  of  jMr.  Ware,  "  I  cannot,"  he  saj's,  "  in  the 
conclusion  of  these  remarks,  offer  anything  approaching  to  a  just  idea  of  the 
character  of  this  distinguished  and  devoted  servant  of  God  in  Jesus.  Perhaps 
I  may  best  give  a  glimpse  of  it  to  you,  my  friends,  by  adverting  to  the  striking 
11 


122  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

He  wrote  a  biographical  sketch  of  his  friend,  which 
was  pubhshed  in  one  of  the  early  numbers  of  "  The 
Christian  Disciple,"  and  was  also  prefixed  to  *  volume 
of  Mr.  Abbot's  Sermons,  which  he  collected  and  printed 
a  few  years  afterward.  While  engaged  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  this  Memoir,  he  expresses  himself  thus  in  a  let- 
ter to  one  of  his  sisters  : 

coincidence  it  bears  with  that  of  his  early  friend,  3'our  yet  loved  pastor,  my 
iinmediale  predecessor  in  office  here,  whose  biography  he  wrote.  Those  who 
best  knew  both,  will  at  once  perceive,  in  reading  this  just  and  beautiful  tribute,* 
that  the  delineation  of  its  author  was  warmed  into  a  life-like  truthfulness  by 
his  sympathies  with  its  subject,  and  that,  in  describing  the  character  of  the 
sainted  Abbot,  he  is  depicting  many  of  the  leading  traits  of  his  oAvn.  The 
same  singleness  of  aim  ;  the  same  devoutness  of  spirit ;  the  same  absorbing 
devotion  to  that  IMaster  whose  name  they  had  named  ;  the  same  high  estimate 
of  their  sacred  office  ;  the  same  diligence  and  fidelity  in  their  appropriate 
duties  ;  the  same  modesty,  mildness,  and  gentleness  of  manner,  united  with 
an  all -pervading  earnestness  of  purpose  ;  the  same  preference  of  the  religious 
character,  before  merely  professional  gifts  and  acquirements  ;  the  same  rever- 
ential culture  of  the  affections,  as  the  sources  of  the  truest  inspiration ;  the 
same  study  of  their  own  hearts  as  indices  to  the  hearts  of  others  ;  the  same 
tenderness  of  conscience,  united  with  the  highest  possible  standard  of  duty, 
which  enabled  them  to  search  and  move  the  consciences  of  others  ;  the  same 
practical  aims  in  the  best  of  causes,  and  the  same  untiring  perseverance  in 
carrying  them  into  effect ;  the  same  independence  in  the  formation  of  their 
own  opinions,  united  with  the  same  catliolic  spirit  in  according  the  same  right 
to  others  ;  the  same  skill  and  diligence  in  finding,  and  in  making,  opportu- 
nities of  religious  improvement ;  the  same  appreciation  of  practical  goodness 
as  the  highest  htunan  greatness,  and  the  same  desire  of  being  useful  to  others 
as  the  l)est  earthly  distinction  ;  the  same  absence  of  all  selfish  ambition  and 
undue  reference  to  the  opinion  of  others,  which  freed  them  from  much  cease- 
less, barren,  and  crippling  misery  ; — all  these  traits  of  character  were  common 
to  both.  The  same  integrity,  sincerity,  simplicity,  and  consecrate  repose  of 
manner  marked  their  private  walk ;  and  a  similar  placid  zeal,  chastened 
fervor,  simple  earnestness,  and  subdued  yet  subduing  pathos,  pervaded  their 
public  ministrations.  In  a  word,  both  endeavored,  as  ministers  and  in  their 
personal  relations,  to  form  themselves  on  the  example  of  their  Lord  ;  and  to 
ihem  both  may  be  applied  more  truly,  than  belongs  commonly  to  even  good 
and  holy  men,  the  comprehensive  eulogj--,  which,  in  the  Biography  above 
alluded  to,  Ware  applied  to  Abbot,  they  were  '  men  of  the  BeatitxidesJ  " 

*  First  publislicJ  in  "  Tlio  Christian  Disciple,"  Vol.  II.,  for  the  year  1S21. 


JR.  123 

"  Feb.  8,  1820. 
"  I  have  received  aid  from  several  of  Abbot's  friends  in  the 
compilation  of  a  Memoir  of  his  life  and  character,  into  which 
I  have  entered  at  considerable  length,  and  hope  I  have  not 
attempted  it  in  vain.  To  me  he  seemed  the  purest  and  most 
faultless  exemplification  of  the  Christian  character  which  I 
have  ever  known ;  and  it  has  afforded  me  the  greatest  pleasure 
to  look  over  the  various  testimonials  and  records  of  his  worth 
which  were  sent  me,  and  to  form  from  them  something  for  the 
improvement  of  the  world  and  for  my  own." 


CHAPTER    YII. 

STATE  OF  THE  RELIGIOUS  WORLD  AT  THE  COMMENCEMENT  OF  MR. 
ware's  MINISTRY  — visit  TO  THE  SOUTH — ORIGIN  OF  "  THE 
CHRISTIAN  disciple"  AND  "THE  CHRISTIAN  EXAMINER"  — HE  BE- 
COMES ITS  EDITOR  — FORMATION  OF  A  CONGREGATIONAL  CHURCH  IN 
NEW  YORK— LETTER  OF  DR.  CHANNING— LETTERS  TO  DR.  M'^LEOD  — 
FAILURE  OF  HIS  HEALTH— CONVENTION  OF  1S20— HIS  IMPRESSIONS 
OF   MR.    WEBSTER'S    ORATORY. 

1818-20.     iET.  24-26. 

Beside  entering  earnestly  into  the  appropriate  duties 
of  his  profession,  Mr.  Ware  soon  became  engaged  in 
most  of  the  benevolent  and  religious  plans  of  the  day, 
and  with  a  heartiness  which  at  once  made  him  a  wel- 
come coadjutor.  He  came  mto  life  at  the  time  when  the 
dividing  lines  had  just  become  distinctly*drawn  between 
that  portion  of  the  Congregational  clergy  who  held  Uni- 
tarian, or,  as  they  had  usually  been  called,  Liberal 
opinions  in  theology,  and  those  who  were  denominated 
the  Orthodox,  or  Evangelical.  It  was  a  period  of  much 
religious  excitement,  and  of  some  acrimony  of  feeling ; 
and  a  controversy  relating  to  the  different  points  in  dis- 
pute was  carried  on  between  distinguislicd  members  of 
the  opposite  parties  with  much  zeal,  vigor,  and  ability, 
partly  in  the  periodical  publications  of  the  day,  and 
partly  in  separate  pamphlets.  This  controversy  extend- 
ed over  a  period  of  several  years.  My  brother,  as  will 
have  appeared  from  many  expressions  made  use  of  in 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  125 

his  letters,  was  disinclined,  both  from  feeling  and  prin- 
ciple, to  the  discnssion  of  mere  doctrinal  points;  yet  his 
opinions  with  regard  to  the  subjects  in  dispute  were  of 
the  most  decided  character,  and  this  disinclmation  was 
the  result,  not  of  any  doubt  as  to  Avhere  the  truth  lay, 
but  of  a  conviction  that  a  Christian  minister  would  be 
better  employed  in  promoting  holiness  of  life,  than  in 
preaching  the  doctrines  of  a  sect.  Hence,  for  the  most 
part,  he  avoided  sectarian  discussion  in  the  pulpit, 
though  not  at  all  backward  to  assert  or  defend  his  opin- 
ions, when  occasion  demanded ;  and,  although  not  tak- 
ing the  field  precisely  as  a  combatant,  his  zeal  and 
earnestness  in  all  religious  movements  soon  made  him 
indirectly  one  of  the  most  active  members  in  promoting 
the  interests  of  the  body  Avith  which  he  was  connected. 

In  December,  1818,  he  made  an  excursion  to  the 
South,  as  far  as  Washington,  partly  with  the  view  of 
improving  his  health,  but  quite  as  much  for  the  purpose 
of  preaching  for  a  new  Unitarian  Society,  which  had 
been  recently  established  in  Baltimore,  being  the  first 
of  the  kind,  it  is  believed,  which  had  ever  existed  be- 
yond Philadelphia.  On  his  way  thither  he  preached  on 
one  Sabbath  in  New  York,  where,  however,  there  was 
then  no  regularly  organized  Society,  and  once  in  Phila- 
delphia.    In  Baltimore,  he  remained  three  weeks. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1819,  a  plan  was  pro- 
posed for  the  publication  of  a  periodical  work,  which 
should  be,  in  some  degree,  the  organ  of  the  Unitarian 
body.  In  carrying  this  into  execution,  my  brother  took 
an  active  part.  It  proved  eminently  successful,  and,  in 
its  results,  has  had  no  inconsiderable  influence  in  pro- 
moting the  dissemination  of  the  religious  opinions  for 
the  defence  of  which  it  was  intended.  In  the  year  1813, 
11^ 


126  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

''  The  Christian  Disciple,"  a  monthly  journal,  had  been 
established  in  Boston,  at  the  suggestion  of  Drs.  Chan- 
ning,  Lowell,  and  Tuckerman,  and  the  Rev.  Samuel  C. 
Thacher.  The  Rev.  Noah  Worcester,  who  had  recently 
distinguished  himself  by  "the  union  of  talent  in  wri- 
ting, and  skill  in  reasoning,  with  Christian  gentleness 
of  manner  and  a  catholic  largeness  of  spirit,"  which  his 
productions  displayed,  was  induced  to  become  its  editor. 
He  removed  to  Brighton  in  May  of  this  year,  for  the 
purpose  of  taking  charge  of  it.  The  original  design  of 
this  work  may  be  best  expressed  in  the  words  of  those 
who  proposed  it  to  the  editor.  ''We  need,"  they  say, 
'•  a  periodical  publication,  which  shall  be  adapted  to  the 
great  mass  of  Christians,  and  the  object  of  which  shall 
be  to  increase  their  zeal  and  seriousness,  to  direct  their 
attention  to  the  Scriptures,  to  furnish  them  with  that 
degree  of  Biblical  criticism  which  they  are  capable  of 
receiving  and  applying,  to  illustrate  obscure  and  per- 
verted passages,  and,  though  last,  not  least,  to  teach  them 
their  Christian  rights,  to  awaken  a  jealous  attachment 
to  Christian  liberty,  to  show  them  the  ground  of  Con- 
gregationalism, and  to  guard  them  against  every  enemy, 
who  would  bring  them  into  bondage.  Our  conviction 
of  the  importance  of  this  work  has  been  strengthened 
by  the  appearance  of  a  publication  in  '  The  Panoplist,' 
recommending  the  immediate  erection  of  Ecclesiastical 
tribunals."  "We  have  no  desire  to  diffuse  any  reli- 
gious peculiarities.  Our  great  desire  is  to  preserve  our 
fellow-Christians  from  the  systematic  and  unwearied 
efforts  which  arc  making  to  impose  on  them  a  human 
creed,  and  to  infuse  into  them  angry  and  bitter  feelings 
towards  those  who  differ  from  them.  Our  great  desire 
is  to  direct  men  to  the  word  of  God,  and  to  awaken  in 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  127 

those  Christians  who  receive  this  as  their  only  stand- 
ard, a  more  devout,  serious,  earnest,  and  affectionate 
piety,  than  they  often  discover.""*  "  The  Christian  Dis- 
ciple" had  continued  in  existence  from  this  period  to 
that  of  which  we  are  speaking,  but,  for  the  last  few 
years,  had  somewhat  languished.  It  had  become,  in 
fact,  an  object  of  but  secondary  interest  to  its  editor, 
who  had  engaged  himself  with  all  his  soul  in  that 
remarkable  enterprise,  to  which  his  efforts  were  chiefly 
directed,  and  with  so  much  success,  during  the  remain- 
der of  his  life,  the  Abolition  of  the  Custom  of  War.  At 
the  close  of  1818,  it  was  his  desire  to  give  up  his  edito- 
rial charge,  that  he  might  concentrate  all  his  powers  on 
this  great  work.  The  first  notice  which  I  find  of  the 
interest  taken  by  my  brother  in  the  plan  for  remodelling 
the  "Disciple"  is  contained  in  the  following  letter. 

to  mr.  allen. 

"Jan.  1819. 

"  I  take  up  pen  at  this  moment,  only  for  the  purpose  of  giv- 
ing you  a  little  item  of  information  respecting  '  The  Christian 
Disciple.'  Mr.  Worcester  has  resigned  all  connexion  with  it, 
and  the  Boston  ministers,  with  Mr.  Norton,  have  taken  it  into 
their  own  hands,  and  pledged  themselves  to  support  it.  It  is 
agreed  to  change  the  plan  ;  to  make  it  a  standard  work  of  Lib- 
eral Christianity,  to  enlarge  it,  and  to  publish  it  once  in  two 
months.  It  is  designed  to  hold  about  the  rank  of '  The  Chris- 
tian Observer,'  and  to  draw  together  all  the  strength  of  the 
party  from  every  part  of  the  country.  It  will  embrace  a  Mis- 
cellany and  a  Review.  I  know  you  will  be  rejoiced  to  hear 
of  this.     It  is  a  noble  design,  and  is  entered  into  with  a 

*  A  more  full  account  of  this  matter  is  given  in  Ware's  "  Memoirs  of  the 
Rev.  Noah  Worcester,  D.  D.,"  pp.  61  et  seq. 


128  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

warmlli  and  sense  of  its  importance,  which  insure  success.  It 
cannot  but  do  good.  Each  Number  is  to  contain  eighty-eight 
pages,  and  ten  of  us  are  pledged  to  afford  at  the  rate  of  eight 
pages  for  each  Number,  either  writing  it  ourselves,  or  procur- 
ing it  from  our  friends." 

In  a  letter,  with  which  I  have  been  favored,  from  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Willard  of  Deerfield,  since  the  death  of  my 
brother,  is  contained  some  notice  of  this  matter. 

"  Prior  to  his  settlement  in  the  ministry,  my  acquaintance 
with  your  brother  was  very  slight ;  but,  in  the  winter  of  1818 
-19,  I  was  invited  to  meet  with  a  number  of  clergymen  in 
Boston,  who  had  undertaken  for  a  time  to  superintend  the  pub- 
lication of  'The  Christian  Disciple.'  Mr.  Ware  was  one  of 
them ;  and  I  was  peculiarly  struck  with  the  rare  combination 
of  candor  and  decision,  with  which  he  expressed  his  opinions 
on  various  subjects.  The  impressions  I  then  received  were 
confirmed  by  the  whole  of  my  subsequent  intercourse  with 
him.  He  was  frank  and  unreserved  in  the  expression  of  his 
own  views  ;  but,  as  he  had  no  fondness  for  skepticism  or  con- 
tradiction, his  mind  was  open  to  any  substantial  arguments,  by 
which  his  previous  opinions  might  be  either  matured  or 
changed  ;  and  he  was  equally  prompt  in  acknowledging  the 
force  of  such  arguments." 

The  first  Number  of  the  work  in  its  new  form  was 
published  in  March,  1819,  and  met  with  far  greater  suc- 
cess than  had  been  anticipated.  It  had  been  superin- 
teuded  by  Mr.  Ware,  and  he  gives  an  account  of  its 
reception  by  the  public  in  the  following  letter,  which 
also  contains  an  allusion  to  another  enterprise  in  which 
he  took  an  active  part. 


JR.  129 

to  mr.  allen. 

"March,  1819. 
"  Tell  me  what  you  think  of  our  new  '  Disciple.'  It  is  quite 
welcomed  in  this  town.  A  considerable  increase  of  the  sub- 
scription has  taken  place,  I  myself  having  procured  forty-seven, 
five  of  them  in  New  York.  Did  I  tell  you  that  we  had  organ- 
ized a  Christian  Tract  Society,  and  are  even  now  beginning  to 
print?  Each  of  the  Boston  ministers  subscribes  twenty  dol- 
lars, expecting  the  necessary  sum  to  be  partly  made  up  by 
the  rich  of  the  several  Societies,  and  the  money's  worth  to 
be  received  in  Tracts.  Three  hundred  dollars  are  already 
subscribed,  and  more  is  expected.  Mr.  Colman  is  publisher, 
under  the  direction  of  the  Christian  Disciple  Society.  '  Our 
spirits  are  stirred  within  us,  seeing  the  whole  city  given  to  idola- 
try,' as  is  said  of  Paul.  We  are  beginning  to  work,  and,  I 
hope,  shall  work  to  some  purpose.  I  am  to  superintend  the 
second  Number  of '  The  Christian  Disciple.'  It  will  probably 
be  quite  as  good  as  the  first;  I  only  fear,  not  sufficiently 
popular." 

He  became  ultimately  the  permanent  conductor  of  the 
work,  and  continued  its  management  to  the  close  of 
1822.  The  interest  taken  in  it  on  its  first  appearance 
was  very  considerable.  The  list  of  subscribers  immedi- 
ately and  rapidly  increased,  and  it  has  since  continued 
to  be  one  of  the  most  uniformly  well  supported  journals 
of  the  country.  Its  character,  and  the  principles  on 
which  it  has  been  conducted,  have  been  essentially  the 
same  to  the  present  day,  when  it  has  reached  the  thirty- 
second  year  of  its  existence.  Several  changes  have 
taken  place  in  its  form  and  size,  and,  in  the  year  1824, 
when  it  came  under  the  editorial  charge  of  Mr.  Palfrey, 
its  name  was  changed  to  ''The  Christian  Examiner.'' 
Its  first  editor  not  only  superintended  the  publication, 


130  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

but  had  the  task,  no  easy  one,  as  every  editor  of  a  jour- 
nal well  knows,  of  securing  from  different  individuals 
the  respective  contributions  they  had  engaged  to  fur- 
nish. He  was  also  one  of  the  most  prolific  of  its  sup- 
porters, and  probably  the  amount  of  his  composition 
considerably  exceeded  that  of  any  other  single  person. 
In  July,  he  thus  writes  concerning  this  work  and  the 
Tract  Society ;  and  in  the  last  paragraph  refers  to  his 
preaching  to  a  new  Society  which  had  been  formed  in 
the  city  of  New  York,  where  he  had  spent  three  Smi- 
days  in  the  month  of  June. 

TO   MR.    ALLEN. 

"  July,  1819. 

"  With  this  goes  *  Disciple,'  No.  3,  which,  I  think,  is  a  good 
Number  in  itself,  but,  I  fear,  rather  heavy  to  many  readers  on 
account  of  the  length  of  the  pieces,  and  not  sufficiently 
popular. 

"  Communications  from  the  country  will,  as  you  saj^  be  val- 
uable to  many  readers.  Variety,  to  suit  various  classes  of 
readers,  must  come  from  various  classes  of  writers.  I  am 
happy  to  say,  that  two  Tracts  are  in  the  press,  and  one,  Mr. 
Channing's  Sermon,  (two  thousand  copies,)  will  be  out  in  a 
day  or  two.  Part  of  my  subscription  I  intend  sending  to  you. 
Part  of  it,  I  shall  sell  to  my  people,  having  drawn  up  a  paper 
saying,  that  any  one  for  seventy-five  cents  per  annum  shall 
have  all  that  are  published.  I  think  thus  I  shall  obtain  thirty 
dollars,  and  then  I  can  increase  my  subscription  to  forty. 

"  Now,  then,  for  New  York.  On  my  first  arrival  there,  I 
was  a  little  disappointed  at  the  small  number  of  those  who 
attended  worship,  the  first  Sabbath  (three  services)  only  about 
two  hundred  persons.  But,  on  farther  consideration,  I  found 
it  quite  as  many  as  could  be  expected ;  and  on  the  two  follow- 
ing Sundays  there  were  many  more,  and  on  the  last  the  chapel 


JR.  131 

was  quite  full.  It  is  calculated  to  hold  three  hundred  and 
over.  The  number  of  proprietors  is  about  thirty,  and  more 
than  half  of  them  have  families.  Their  interest  is  of  a  very 
enlightened  sort,  calm  and  yet  fervent ;  they  understand  the 
merits  of  the  case,  and  are  perfectly  decided  without  any  par- 
tizanship,  and  really  liberal  Avithout  bigotry  or  latitudinarian- 
ism.  I  think  them  in  an  admirable  state,  and  some  of  them 
very  serious,  religious  men.  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  their 
final,  though  very  gradual,  success.  They  are  unable  to  build 
a  church  at  present,  but  have  the  promise  of  several  rich  men 
to  join  them  whenever  they  shall  undertake  it." 

The  formation  of  this  Society  was  an  important  event 
in  the  religious  history  of  the  day.  In  the  spring  of 
1819,  several  gentlemen  in  New  York,  principally  from 
Massachusetts,  associated  themselves  for  the  purpose 
of  procuring  such  preaching  as  was  in  conformity  with 
their  ideas  of  religious  truth.  There  was  at  this  time 
in  the  city  no  church  in  which  there  was  manifested 
the  slightest  tolerance  for  the  opinions  in  which  most 
of  them  had  been  educated.  In  April,  Dr.  Channing 
preached  to  a  small  assembly  of  hearers  in  a  private 
house.  The  Society  afterward  procured  a  hall  in  the 
Medical  College,  in  Barclay  Street,  where  public  wor- 
ship was  held ;  and  Dr.  Channing  was  followed  succes- 
sively by  Mr.  Palfrey  and  Mr.  Greenwood,  and,  in  June, 
by  Mr.  Ware.  During  this  visit  it  happened  to  him 
(what  was  indeed  very  rarely  the  case)  to  fall  into  a 
state  of  great  despondency  with  regard  to  the  prospects 
of  the  cause.  He  usually  entertained  the  most  cheer- 
ing and  hopeful  views  of  the  ultimate  success  of  Chris- 
tian truth ;  but  he  seems  at  this  time  to  have  been  in  a 
manner  oppressed  by  a  consideration  of  the  apparent 
inadequacy  of  the  means  to  the  accomplishment  of  the 


132 

proposed  end.  He  found  himself  almost  a  stranger  and 
miknown,  in  the  midst  of  a  large  city,  whose  whole  pop- 
ulation, so  far  as  they  had  any  religious  feeling  at  all, 
entertained  a  thorough  hostility  to  the  views  which  he 
had  undertaken  to  advocate,  looking  upon  the  little 
handful  with  v/hom  he  was  associated,  as  a  crew  of 
heretics  and  infidels ;  and  he  shrunk  from  the  over- 
whelming odds  which  seemed  to  be  staked  against  him. 
Wliile  in  this  frame  of  mind,  he  wrote  to  Dr.  Channing, 
from  whom  he  received  an  answer  that  gave  him  fresh 
hope ;  and  the  clouds,  which  for  a  time  had  hung  about 
the  prospect,  seem  soon  to  have  been  dissipated. 

from  the  rev.  dr.  channing. 

"Boston,  June  16,  1819. 
"  My  DEAR  Sir, 

"  Your  letter  has  been  strangely  delayed.  I  have  just  re- 
ceived it,  and  therefore  may  have  seemed  negligent  of  your 
request  of  advice  and  encouragement.  You  remember  the 
language  of  the  Psalmist,  '  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my 
soul  ?  Hope  in  God.^  I  regret  that  you  have  not  more  to  ani- 
mate you ;  but  the  true  use  of  difficulties  is  at  once  to  confirm 
our  devout  submission,  and  to  call  forth  conscientious  exertion. 
There  is  a  satisfaction  in  adhering  to  a  good  cause,  when  it 
droops,  as  well  as  when  it  prospers.  We  have  but  one  ques- 
tion to  settle  ;  Are  we  preaching  God's  truth  ?  are  w^e  holding 
forth  a  purer  system  of  Christianity  than  that  which  prevails  ? 
are  we  inculcating  doctrines,  which,  if  believed,  will  make 
men  better,  and  fit  them  more  surely  for  future  happiness  ? 
If  we  believe  this,  we  must  not  sink ;  for,  if  our  convictions 
be  true,  our  cause  is  God's,  and  will  prevail ;  and,  if  w^e  err, 
our  sincere  aim  to  serve  him  will  be  accepted,  and  will  be  over- 
ruled to  good. 

"  Your  letter  discourages  the  hope  of  the  speedy  erection  of 
an  independent  church  in  New  York;    and  I  perceive  you 


JR.  133 

expect  little  from  ministrations  in  an  obscure  chapel.  On  this 
last  point  I  cannot  agree  with  you.  If  our  friends  have  zeal 
enough  to  withstand  neglect ;  if  they  love  Christianity  as  much 
in  an  unostentatious  building,  (by  the  way,  a  much  better  one 
than  the  upper  room  in  which  Paul  preached,)  as  in  a  splendid 
church;  if  they  have  made  up  their  minds  to  worship  God 
according  to  their  best  understanding  of  his  word,  I  have  no 
fear  of  the  result.  If  they  have  Scripture,  and  its  Author,  on 
their  side.  Providence  will  send  them  friends.  My  only  fear 
is,  that  they  are  not  prepared  to  '  take  up  the  cross ;'  that  the 
Gospel,  without  its  worldly  accompaniments,  may  not  be 
enough  for  them ;  that  the  struggle  may  be  an  exhausting  one, 
not  being  sustained  by  a  deep  feeling  of  the  importance  of  their 
principles ;  and  I  fear  this,  not  because  I  think  them  inferior 
to  most  men,  but  because  the  union  of  unconquerable  zeal  with 
calmness  and  charitableness  of  mind  is  so  uncommon.  As  to 
their  best  course,  I  agree  with  you,  that  they  should  call  atten- 
tion to  the  subject  of  their  peculiarities.  Good  books  and 
tracts,  exposing  the  error  of  Calvinism,  would  be  very  useful. 
"  As  to  the  style  of  preaching,  it  should  be  distinctive  and 
earnest.  We  should  mark  plainly,  openly,  in  direct  language, 
and  by  strong  contrast,  the  difference  of  oar  views  from  those 
which  prevail,  letting  this  difference  appear  in  our  discourses, 
on  ordinary  as  well  as  disputed  subjects  ;  hut  we  should  always 
let  men  see  that  we  hold  our  distinguishing  views  to  be  impor- 
tant, only  because  they  tend  to  vital  and  practical  godliness. 
We  should  give  them  to  men  as  means  and  motives  to  a 
Christian  life  ;  teaching  them  hov/  to  use  them  as  helps  to  vir- 
tue ; — and  we  should  always  assail  the  opposite  sentiments  as 
unfriendly  to  the  highest  virtue,  and  earnestly  and  affection- 
ately warn  men  against  them,  as  injuring  their  highest  inter- 
ests. I  have  but  one  more  remark.  Christ  preached  to  the 
poor ;  and,  I  think,  that  no  system  bears  the  stamp  of  his  reli- 
gion, or  can  prevail,  which  is  not  addressed  to  the  great  major- 
ity of  men. 

12 


134  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  see  a  Unitarian  Society  in  New  York, 
made  up  of  rich,  fashionable,  thoughtless  people.  I  wash 
friends  and  adherents,  who  will  be  hearty  and  earnest ;  and  I 
believe  these  qualities  may  be  found  mainly  in  the  middling 
classes.  Can  no  inquiry  be  instituted  among  these  to  learn 
whether  they  are  favorably  disposed  to  your  object? 

*'  !My  sincere  regards  and  best  wishes  to  all  our  friends.  I 
wish  to  hear  often. 

"  Your  affectionate  brother, 

"Wm.  E.  Channing." 

In  the  subsequent  progress  of  this  Society  Mr.  Ware 
took  a  constant  and  deep  interest;  this  being  known, 
frequent  recourse  was  had  to  him  for  assistance  and 
advice  during  the  early  years  of  its  existence.  There 
can  hardly  be  a  stronger  testimony  to  the  practical  and 
useful  cast  of  his  mind,  than  the  frequency  with  which 
he  was  called  upon,  even  at  this  early  age,  and  after  so 
short  a  period  passed  in  the  active  duties  of  life,  for  that 
sort  of  counsel,  in  the  management  of  affairs,  which  is 
usually  sought  only  from  the  lips  of  age  and  experience. 

Though  a  litde  out  of  the  order  of  time,  some  further 
circumstances,  growing  out  of  his  mterest  in  this  Society, 
will  be  best  stated  now.  In  the  autumn  of  this  year, 
they  felt  themselves  sufficiently  encouraged  to  undertake 
the  building  of  a  house  for  worship ;  and,  with  this 
view,  were  incorporated  as  a  distinct  body,  under  the 
name  of  "  The  First  Congregational  Church  of  New 
York."  In  the  spring  of  1820,  they  proceeded  to  the 
erection  of  their  church  ;  and  my  brother,  being  present 
in  the  city  for  the  purpose,  made  an  address  on  the  lay- 
mg  of  the  corner-stone,  which  took  place  on  Saturday, 
the  29th  of  April.  On  the  evening  of  the  succeeding 
day,  he  attended  a  service  at  the  Reformed  Presbyterian 


JR.  135 

Church,  and  heard  there  a  sermon  from  its  pastor,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  M^Leod,  the  text  of  which  was  the  disputed 
verse,  1  John,  v.  7,  of  the  three  heavenly  witnesses. 
This  was  claimed  by  the  preacher  as  genuine,  and  was 
made  the  occasion  of  severe  animadversion  upon  the 
Unitarian  belief  On  the  evening  of  the  next  Sabbath, 
Mr.  Ware  was  naturally  led  to  attend  again  at  the  same 
church,  and  Dr.  M^Leod  took  then  for  his  text  a  pas- 
sage of  Scripture,  which  had  been  inscribed  on  the  plate 
deposited  under  the  corner-stone  of  the  new  church, — 
'•  This  is  life  eternal,  to  know  thee,  the  true  God,  and 
Jesus  Christ,  Avhom  thou  hast  sent;"  and  proceeded  to 
remark  again  on  the  opinions  held  by  Unitarians,  with 
especial  reference  to  the  ceremony  of  the  preceding  week. 
The  attack  in  these  sermons  was  so  direct,  and  seemed 
so  likely  to  increase  the  unjust  prejudices  already  exist- 
ing against  this  class  of  Christians,  that  my  brother  felt 
himself  called  upon  to  make  some  reply.  Accordingly, 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  without  any  full  oppor- 
tunity of  consulting  books,  or  weighing  the  subject  delib- 
erately, he  wrote  and  published  two  Letters,  addressed 
to  the  preacher  ;  the  first  containing  a  general  sketch  of 
the  argument  in  relation  to  the  disputed  text,  and  the 
second,  some  remarks  in  reply  to  the  statements  in  the 
second  sermon.  This  pamphlet  was  published  on  the 
11th  of  May,  only  four  days  after  the  delivery  of  the 
second  sermon,  and  a  copy  of  it  was  sent,  accompanied 
by  a  respectful  note,  to  Dr.  M^Leod,  who  returned  the 
following  answer. 

to  the  rev.  henry  ware,  jr. 
"  Sir, 

"  I  have  received  your  polite  note  of  the  11th,  and  have 
attentively  perused  your  two  printed  Letters,  a  copy  of  which 


136 

you  had  the  goodness  to  present  to  me.  I  have  no  right  to 
complain  of  the  liberty  you  have  taken  in  addressing  me  from 
the  press,  on  a  subject  of  which  I  treated  in  the  pulpit;  and 
I  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  the  style  of  your  correspon- 
dence. That  you  should  have  misunderstood,  and  of  course 
misrepresented,  some  of  my  remarks,  was  to  have  been  ex- 
pected, without  a  supposition  of  intentional  misrepresentation. 
Your  religious  principles  are  as  different  from  mine,  as  are 
those  of  Zoroaster  from  the  faith  of  Abraham. 

"  I  hope  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  accept  a  copy  of  my 
'  Sermons  on  True  Godliness,^  in  which  my  views  of  Christi- 
anity are  contained.  They  differ  essentially  from  your  views. 
Be  assured.  Sir,  that  you  have  an  interest  in  my  humble 
prayers  to  the  only  true  God,  that  you  may  be  accepted  of  him 
through  the  righteousness  of  Jehovah  Jesus. 

"  Your  humble  servant  in  the  glorious  gospel, 

"  Alex.  M^Leod. 
"  New  York,  V^h  May,  1S20." 

On  the  succeeding  Sabbath,  Dr.  JVFLeod  preached  a 
third  discourse,  of  the  same  tendency  with  those  which 
had  preceded,  containing  personal  allusions  to  some  of 
the  most  distinguished  professors  of  Unitarian  opinions, 
and  some  reply  to  the  pamphlet.  The  attention,  which 
was  in  tliis  way  called  to  the  important  subject  in  con- 
troversy, proved  in  the  end,  probably,  beneficial  to  the 
prospects  of  the  ncAv  Society. 

The'  interest,  which  Mr.  Ware  felt  in  the  prosperity 
of  his  New  York  friends,  was  of  course  increased  by 
the  circumstance,  that  in  the  winter  of  the  succeeding 
year,  1821,  his  brother  William  became  their  pastor. 
This  interest  was  a  permanent  one,  originating,  per- 
haps, in  personal  and  accidental  associations;  but  was 
strengthened  by  the  view  which  he  afterward  took  of 


JR.  137 

the  importance  of  the  city  of  New  York,  as  a  wide  field 
for  implanting  and  cultivating  Unitarian  sentiments. 
It  continued  to  the  end  of  his  life,  and  frequently  man- 
ifests itself  in  his  correspondence  with  his  brother,  and 
in  letters  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Dewey,  afterward  pastor  of 
the  Second  Congregational  Society,  which  was  formed 
in  that  city. 

Previously  to  his  ordination  his  health  had  been  very 
good ;  but,  within  no  very  long  period,  he  became  af- 
flicted with  some  of  those  bodily  infirmities,  from  which 
he  was  seldom  afterward  entirely  exempt,  though  not  the 
subject  of  any  actual  disease.  He  sufifered  frequently 
from  severe  headaches,  which  for  the  time  prostrated 
him  entirely;  from  pains  in  the  sides  and  chest;  and 
from  some  dyspeptic  difiiculties.  Even  in  the  intervals 
of  such  attacks,  he  was  rarely  free  from  a  sense  of  lan- 
guor and  indisposition  to  bodily  exertion.  Still,  he 
often  forced  himself  to  no  inconsiderable  exertions,  both 
of  body  and  mind ;  but  these  Avere  unequal  and  irregu- 
lar; and  a  tendency  to  the  procrastination  of  duty, 
especially  that  of  writing  sermons,  the  result  partly  of 
constitution,  and  partly  of  indisposition,  made  it  occa- 
sipnally  necessary  for  him  to  crowd  much  labor  into  a 
small  space.  Hence,  he  was  sometimes  obliged  to 
make  great  and  unusually  continued  efibrts.  He  fre- 
quently sat  up  very  late  at  night,  and  indulged  in  other 
irregularities  of  the  same  kind ;  habits  well  suited  to 
undermine  the  health  of  any  student,  especially  one  of 
so  frail  a  fabric  as  his.  He  said  to  me,  within  a  few 
months  of  his  death,  that  he  had  through  life  felt  the 
greatest  repugnance  to  regard  his  health  as  an  obstacle 
to  any  exertion,  or  to  offer  indisposition  as  an  excuse 
for  omitting  a  duty,  or  even  for  declining  to  engage  in 
12*' 


138  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

any  extraordinary  task.  He  could  not  bear  to  be  pet- 
ted or  to  pet  himself.  He  was  reluctant  to  think,  when 
he  saw  anything  which  required  to  be  done,  that  he 
was  not  well  enough  to  undertake  it.  His  disregard  of 
the  common  dictates  of  prudence,  in  everything  that 
concerned  his  health,  was  such  as  often  to  grieve,  and 
sometimes  to  irritate,  his  best  friends.  The  following 
is  an  example  of  the  mode  in  which  he  was  willing  to 
deal  with  himself  On  one  occasion,  when  he  was  to 
give  a  lecture  in  the  evening,  he  was  so  ill  in  the  after- 
noon as  to  require  the  administration  of  an  emetic.  It 
had  produced  no  effect  when  the  hour  arrived.  Feel- 
ing well  enough  at  the  time,  he  entered  church,  hap- 
pening then  to  live  directly  opposite,  went  through  with 
the  service,  and  then  hurried  home  in  season  to  experi- 
ence the  proper  eflects  of  his  medicine. 

But  perhaps  we  are  not  always  patient  enough  with 
those  who,  like  him,  are  struggling  with  physical  in- 
firmity. Those  who  join  a  slow  and  unenterprising 
temperament  with  a  sound  and  healthy  body, — who 
are  moderate  in  their  purposes,  and  indisposed  to  active 
exertion, — can  have  little  tolerance  for  one  who,  with 
an  earnest  and  eager  spirit,  always  full  of  new  de- 
signs, always  pressing  forward  in  some  new  purpose,  is 
chained  to  a  frail  and  feeble  frame,  which  he  is  obliged 
to  drag  after  him  at  every  step.  In  sucli  a  man,  it  is 
not  so  much  a  disregard  of  the  laws  of  bodily  health,  as 
an  entire  forgetfulness  that  he  has  a  body  to  take  care 
of  at  all.  When  reduced  by  sickness,  he  would  lament 
Ills  imprudences  and  resolve  on  reformation:  but,  the 
moment  he  became  well  enough  to  begin  again  his 
usual  occupations,  he  would  plunge  into  them  with  the 
same  recklessness  as  before.     The  following  extracts 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  139 

from  letters,  written  within  the  first  few  years  of  his 
residence  in  Boston,  are  somewhat  miscellaneous  in 
their  character,  but  contain,  among  other  matters,  allu- 
sions to  his  health. 

to  mr.  allen. 

"July,  1818. 

"  The  Books  of  Mr.  Thacher's  Library  sold  at  a  pretty  good 
price ;  the  Polyglot  at  nineteen  dollars  per  volume,  and  "Wet- 
stein  at  fifteen.  The  best  books  sold  rapidly  and  high.  I 
bought  Locke's  AVorks  at  five  dollars  per  volume,  a  very  fine 
copy.  I  have  been  induced  to  look  into  his  Defences  of  his 
'  Reasonableness ;'  and,  although,  as  in  all  controversies,  there 
is  much  of  personality,  yet  there  is,  what  you  do  not  always 
find  in  the  second  or  third  reply  on  the  same  subject,  some- 
thing new  in  each.  Some  passages  may  be  selected  quite 
equal  to  any  in  the  original  work.  In  looking  over  his  works, 
I  am  more  than  ever  sensible  of  his  real  greatness.  He  was  an 
original  thinker,  and  thought  on  a  great  many  subjects.  His 
treatise  on  '  Education'  appears  to  have  been  the  very  com- 
mencement of  the  modern  improvement  in  the  discipline  and 
instruction  of  young  children.  His  '  Essay  on  Human  Under- 
standing' laid  the  foundation  of  modern  metaphysics,  the 
metaphysics  of  common  sense.  His  '  Reasonableness  of 
Christianity,'  his  Preface  and  '  Paraphrases,'  with  his  '  Letters 
on  Toleration,'  commenced,  and  have  been  successful  in  build- 
ing up  in  the  world,  the  Christian  liberality  of  the  present  day. 
So  that  he  did,  what  perhaps  no  man  else  has  ever  done, 
altered,  the  habits  of  thinking  among  men,  upon  three  very 
im'portant  subjects,  and  thus  gave  a  cast  to  the  character  of 
society,  which  must  affect  it  forever. 

"  I  am  not  wholly  free  from  pain  in  my  side,  which  forbids 
my  applying  myself  closely  to  study,  and  I  am  therefore  pretty 
indolent.  I  do  nothing  more  than  write  my  sermons.  I  have 
been  engaged  a  good  deal  in  assisting  the  establishment  of  new 


140  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

town  schools,  visiting  every  family  in  my  neighborhood,  about 
two  hundred,  to  know  the  names  and  ages  of  their  children. 
Schools  are  to  be  established  for  children  between  four  and 
seven  years  old. 

"  Sunday  Evening,  July  12. — I  have  passed  a  happy  day. 
For  eight  days  past,  I  have  been  uniformly  better  in  health 
and  feelings,  than  for  more  than  six  months  previous.  I 
preached  this  morning  on  Family  Worship  ;  this  afternoon,  on 
the  Use  to  he  made  of  the  Old  Testament  Characters.  This 
last  sermon  I  commenced  writing  last  night,  at  half  past  nine, 
and  finished  at  nine  this  morning,  which  is  my  greatest  feat  in 
writing.  The  case  was  this ;  a  sermon,  which  I  had  com- 
menced and  intended  finishing  for  to-day,  I  had  mislaid,  so 
that  it  could  not  be  found ;  and,  rather  than  preach  an  old  ser- 
mon, I  wrote  this,  which  was  not  very  bad." 

TO    THE    SAME. 

"  Sept.  13,  1S19. 
"  You  perceive  by  the  papers,  that  Mr.  Huntington  is  dead. 
Thus  we  pay  an  annual  tribute  to  the  grave ;  who  shall  go 
next  ?  He  has  been  so  little  with  us,  that  we  shall  not  feel  his 
loss  like  that  of  Thacher,  or  like  that  of  any  man  who  had 
associated  jnore  with  us  ;  but  we  cannot  help  being  affected  by 
it.  The  age  of  a  Boston  minister  is  thirty-two  years ;  it  is  sad 
to  think,  that  we  may  none  of  us  pass  that  period ;  for  myself, 
it  is  the  very  limit  of  my  expectations." 

In  the  course  of  the  summer  of  1820,  he  became  so 
seriously  indisposed  as  to  occasion  much  anxiety  in  his 
friends  and  people.  To  an  aggravated  degree  of  the 
symptoms  before  enumerated,  from  which  he  frequently 
suffered,  was  added  a  constant  and  harassing  cough. 
It  was  judged  necessary,  in  the  month  of  July,  that  he 
should  suspend  his  labors  for  a  while.  He  accordingly 
left  home  in  the  latter  part  of  that  month,  and  took  a 


I 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  141 

journey  on  horseback  into  the  interior  of  the  State.  He 
was  absent  about  a  fortnight,  visiting  and  preaching 
at  Princeton  and  Deerfield  on  his  way,  and  returned 
with  heaUh  and  strength  much  improved.  His  cough, 
as  he  informed  us,  subsided  ahuost  entirely  after  only 
two  or  three  days'  ride,  of  twenty  or  thirty  miles,  and, 
by  the  time  of  his  return,  was  quite  gone.  It  may  be 
stated,  for  the  benefit  of  any  of  his  professional  brethren, 
who  may  suffer  in  a  similar  manner,  that,  at  no  time  of 
his  life,  did  any  remedy  produce  so  distinct  a,nd  well- 
marked  benefit,  as  exercise  on  horseback  in  this  way, 
namely,  riding  through  the  country  from  town  to  town, 
at  a  moderate  pace,  and  living  in  a  very  simple  manner, 
chiefly  on  bread,  milk,  and  eggs.  He  seldom,  however, 
added  to  these  means  entire  rest  from  his  usual  labors ; 
since  he  was  not  willing  to  go  unprepared  to  preach, 
and  in  fact  usually  preached  more  frequently  than  he 
did  at  home,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  account  he  gives,  in 
one  of  his  letters,  of  a  short  tour  for  recreation,  which 
he  took  in  the  succeeding  summer  with  his  friend,  Mr. 
Greenwood. 

TO    MR.  ALLEN. 

"  1821. 

"  Preached  on  Wednesday  the  ordination  sermon  at  Bridge- 
water,  from  Rom.  xii.  11,  *  Not  slothful  in  hitsiness,  fervent  in 
spirit,  serving  the  Lord,^  which  I  called  the  minister's  motto  ; 
and  went  to  Plymouth,  &c.,  calling  on  all  the  ministers  as  we 
went  on.  Preached  for  Haven,  at  Dennis,  on  Friday  evening, 
who  holds  two  meetings  on  every  week,  his  people  being  in  a 
state  of  excitement,  and  he  being  not  a  little  Orthodox.  Spent 
Sunday  at  Brewster,  preaching  three  times.  On  Tuesday 
evening,  preached  at  Provincetown ;  Wednesday  morning,  at 
Truro  ;  Thursday  evening,  at  Sandwich.     Thus  it  was  quite 


142  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

a  missionary  tour.  The  Methodists  began  an  excitement, 
which  has  spread  throughout  the  Cape,  and  made  preaching  a 
very  frequent  affair.  It  would  do  a  great  deal  of  good  for  us 
to  go  down  there  oftener.  It  would  be  the  most  useful  journey 
you  could  take,  and  one  of  the  pleasantest.  All  are  hospi- 
table, and  everything  new  and  strange.  I  want  to  describe  it 
to  you." 

Some  years  afterwards  he  says,  speaking  of  his  fre- 
quent absence  from  home, 

"I  go  many  journeys,  but  none  for  pleasure,  and  no  long 
ones ;  and,  in  the  present  state  of  the  churches,  I  should  think 
it  wrong  to  go  where  I  could  do  no  good  to  anybody." 

On  tlie  separation  of  the  District  of  Maine,  as  it  was 
formerly  called,  from  the  old  Commonwealth  of  Massa- 
chusetts, and  its  erection  into  a  distinct  State,  in  1820, 
a  convention  was  called  for  the  purpose  of  considering 
whether,  in  consequence  of  this  event,  any  amendment 
of  ithe  Constitution  was  necessary.  My  brother  w^as 
chosen  a  delegate  to  the  convention,  from  the  town  of 
Boston.  With  a  single  exception,  he  took  no  part  in 
the  business  of  this  body,  but  was  an  attentive  listener 
to  its  debates.  He  was  particularly  interested  in  that 
whicli  took  place  on  the  subject  of  constitutional  pro- 
visions for  the  support  of  religion.  This  subject,  as 
will  be  recollected  by.  those  conversant  with  the  history 
of  the  time,  excited  a  great  deal  of  attention,  and  called 
out  much  talent,  as  well  as  much  feeling,  in  those  who 
were  engaged  in  it.  A  letter  to  Mr.  Allen  contains  his 
recollections  of  the  close  of  this  debate,  and  some  ac- 
count of  the  impression  made  upon  him,  at  that  time, 
by  the  efforts  of  the  distinguished  statesman,  who  has 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,  JR.  143 

since  filled  so  large  a  space,  in  the  parliamentary  history 
of  the  country. 

to  mr.  allen. 

"  Saturday,  p.  m.,  Dec.  30,  1820. 
"  Dear  Brother, 

"  You  will  have  learned  from  the  papers,  which  I  have  sent 
you,  the  progress  and  conclusion  of  the  business  before  the 
Convention,  when  you  left  it  on  Wednesday  evening.  I  was 
surprised  that  you  went  away  so  early,  and  regretted  that  you 
should  lose  the  most  animated  part  of  one  of  the  most  able  and 
animated  debates  which  has  occurred.  It  must  have  been 
after  you  went  away,  I  think,  that  Mr.  Saltonstall  made  a  very 
powerful  speech,  (much  finer  than  that  which  you  heard,  and 
finer,  indeed,  than  almost  any  one  from  anybody,)  and  that  Mr. 
Webster  closed  the  debate  with  an  overwhelming  burst  of 
roused  and  indignant  eloquence.  It  was  in  the  same  tone 
with  those  which  he  had  previously  made,  and  the  torrent  was 
irresistible.  He  undoubtedly,  by  his  strenuous  and  repeated 
exertions,  turned  the  balance  of  opinion,  and  caused  the  rejec- 
tion of  Williams'  resolution, — 179  to  186.  After  the  counte- 
nance which  had  been  given  to  it  by  Judges  Parker,  Dawes, 
and  Wilde,  and  the  appearance  of  unanimity  in  the  forenoon, 
when  the  question,  if  taken,  would  have  been  carried  by  an 
almost  unanimous  vote,  it  undoubtedly  required  all  the  vehe- 
mence and  effort  of  Webster  and  his  friends  to  obtain  the  deci- 
sion which  was  given.  Such  vehemence  and  efforts  I  have 
never  at  any  other  time  witnessed.  There  was  as  much  talent 
in  the  debate  on  '  the  Senate,'  but  it  was  not  so  roused, 
so  excited  to  strong  action ;  there  was  more  cool  argument, 
and  less  fervid  eloquence.  Every  one,  on  Wednesday 
evening,  was  full  of  strong  feeling,  as  well  as  of  able  reason- 
ing. You  may  discern  this  in  the  tone  of  the  debate,  as 
reported;  but,  to  understand  it  fully,  you  should  have  heard 


144  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

the  tone  of  the  voices  also.  "VV^ebster  was  excited  almost  to 
frenzy,  and  he  spared  neither  person  nor  thing,  to  show  the 
badness  of  the  measure,  and  the  inconsistency  of  those  who 
advocated  it.  He  said  afterwards  to  Mr.  Tuckerman,  by  way 
of  apology  as  it  were,  that  he  felt  that  the  cause  was  gone,  and 
nothing  but  a  desperate  exertion  could  recover  it.  He  made 
this,  and  recovered  it. 

"  If  the  State  is  a  gainer,  all  the  credit  is  due  to  Webster. 
He  is  a  wonderful  man.  I  am  more  sensible  of  his  superiority 
to  other  men,  every  day.  No  man  so  quickly  and  so  thoroughly 
discerns  a  whole  subject,  and  elucidates  it  in  so  clear,  precise, 
and  concise  a  manner.  His  mode  of  speaking  is  peculiar; 
altogether  unfettered  by  any  rule,  and  exceedingly  various. 
He  has  three  distinct  styles.  The  first  is  his  slow,  unimpas- 
sioned,  deliberate  manner,  when  he  is  stating  simple  facts,  or 
plain  reasoning;  which  is  very  distinct  and  forcible,  without 
being  animated,  like  the  manner  of  a  very  good  reader.  This, 
I  think,  exceeding  beautiful.  The  second,  is  when  he  is 
interested  in  the  discussion  of  some  important  topic,  and  has 
become  warmed  by  the  subject,  or  simply  by  the  action  of  his 
own  mind.  This  is  slow,  various,  animated,  and  presents  the 
finest  specimen  of  elocution  I  have  ever  witnessed.  This  is 
his  best  and  most  powerful  manner.  The  third  is  different 
from  either  of  the  former,  as  if  it  were  that  of  a  different  man. 
It  is  when  he  is  excited  by  other  causes  than  the  subject 
merely ;  when  he  is  impatient  and  irritated  at  the  conduct  of 
others,  or  at  something  which  has  occurred  in  debate.  He  is 
then  very  rapid ;  a  perfect  torrent  of  words  ;  his  voice  is  loud, 
on  a  high  key ;  his  emphasis  sharp,  and  almost  screeching ; 
his  gesture  perpetual  and  violent ;  his  face  alternately  flushed 
and  pale.  This  was  his  manner  on  Wednesday  evening, 
carried  to  the  extreme  in  his  last  speech.  In  this  he  is  far  less 
pleasant,  though  perhaps  not  less  effective,  than  in  his  other 
style.  He  overpowers  and  oppresses,  as  well  as  convinces, 
you.     This  variety  of  manner,  suited  to  every  kind  of  subject, 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR.  145 

and  every  frame  of  mind,  is  one  of  his  remarkable  traits;  it  is 
one  of  the  secrets  of  his  power ;— for,  being  altogther  natural 
and  never  assumed,  it  leads  you  into  the  heart  of  the  subject, 
and  prevents  your  being  wearied,  as  you  would  be,  by  the 
recurrence  of  monotonous  tones  '* 
13 


CHAPTER    Yin. 

HIS  OCCUPATIONS— SICKNESS  IN  HIS  FAMILY  — PREACHES  AT  AMHERST, 
N.  H.,  AND  UNDER  WHAT  CIRCUMSTANCES  — FORMATION  OF  THE 
ASSOCIATION  FOR  MUTUAL  RELIGIOUS  IMPROVEMENT — ESTABLISH- 
MENT OF    SUNDAY  EVENING  SERVICES  FOR  THE  POOR. 

1821-22.     2ET.  27-28, 

During  the  years  which  had  elapsed  since  my  bro- 
ther's settlement,  few  events  had  occurred  in  his  mmis- 
terial  life  which  require  particular  notice.  Though 
called  away  much  to  other  duties,  and  interesting  him- 
self constantly  in  everything  which  he  believed  would 
promote  the  cause  of  religion,  still  his  thoughts  were 
principally  engaged  by  the  cares  of  his  parish,  and  his 
people  always  occupied  the  chief  share  in  his  affections 
and  his  attentions.  For  them  he  labored  constantly 
and  zealously;  and,  notwithstanding  the  amount  of 
his  exertions  abroad,  he  prepared  himself  faithfully 
for  the  pulpit,  and  found  time  for  intimate  personal 
intercourse  with  the  members  of  his  Society ;  and  this, 
though  suffering  such  frequent  interruptions  from  ill 
health.  Besides  writing  many  articles,  some  of  them 
of  considerable  length  and  requiring  much  thought,  for 
''  The  Christian  Disciple,"  he  performed  the  wearisome 
and  often  vexatious  duties  of  its  editor.  He  added  to 
the  regular  exercises  of  the  §abbath  a  weekly  Lecture 
on  Friday  evening,  and  met  the  children  of  his  parish, 
at  stated  times,  for  personal  instruction.     As  a  recom- 


JR.  147 

pense  for  these  exertions,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  see- 
ing the  number  of  his  hearers  regularly  increase,  but 
especially,  of  witnessing  a  more  devoted  personal  atten- 
tion to  religion  in  the  families  of  those  to  whom  he 
ministered. 

In  May,  1821,  occurred  the  centennial  anniversary 
of  the  erection  of  the  church  in  which  his  Society  wor- 
shipped. He  availed  himself  of  this  occasion  to  enter 
into  a  minute  investigation  of  its  history ;  and  his  labors 
were  rewarded  by  the  accumulation  of  a  good  deal  of 
curious  and  interesting  matter,  more  than  is  usually 
found  in  the  annals  of  parishes,  which  he  presented  to 
his  Society  in  two  discourses.  These  discourses  were 
published. 

Some  things  relating  to  this  year  have  been  antici- 
pated ;  and  there  is  nothing  further  to  record  except  that 
he  seems  to  have  been  more  than  usually  busy  with  his 
pen.  Besides  contributing  at  least  as  much  as  usual  to 
''The  Christian  Disciple,"  he  became  a  frequent  writer 
for  '•  The  Christian  Register,"  a  rehgious  newspaper, 
which  was  established  about  this  period. 

The  year  1822  was  passed  principally  at  home. 
There  had  been  already  considerable  sickness  in  his 
family;  but,  in  the  course  of  this  year,  the  health  of 
Mrs.  Ware,  which  had  for  a  long  time  been  very  deli- 
cate, became  more  seriously  impaired,  and  she  exhib- 
ited symptoms  of  a  gradual  but  certain  decline.  Their 
youngest  child,  also,  a  boy,  became  in  the  summer  very 
ill,  and  the  alarming  condition  of  both  induced  them  to 
try  the  effect  of  a  change  of  air.  Their  house  in  town 
was  accordingly  given  up,  and  they  removed  to  one  in 
the  upper  part  of  Cambridgeport,  about  a  mile  from  the 
College.      Here  several  months  were  spent,  but  with 


148  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

little  benefit  to  either  of  the  invalids.     They  returned 
to  Boston  in  the  autumn. 

In  August,  he  visited  Amherst,  N.  H.,  and  spent  a 
Sunday  there,  at  the  request  of  a  number  of  persons, 
who  were  not  satisfied  Avitli  the  preaching  which  they 
usually  heard  from  their  minister,  and  had  conse- 
quently separated  themselves  from  the  Congregational 
Society  of  the  place.  They  had  not  formed  themselves 
into  a  regularly  organized  body,  but  proposed  to  have 
public  worship  in  the  Court-House,  not  anticipating 
any  opposition.  On  my  brother's  arrival  in  the  town, 
however,  he  was  greeted  with  a  formal  protest,  both 
from  the  clergyman  in  question  and  from  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  Society,  who  objected  to  his  appearance,  as 
a  proceeding  not  conformable  to  established  usage,  as 
an  unwarrantable  interference  with  the  rights  of  the 
minister  and  people,  and  as  tending  to  disturb  the  har- 
nlbny  of  the  place.  The  circumstances  of  the  case  did 
not  seem  to  him,  on  careful  consideration,  to  authorize 
this  interference.  It  appeared,  that  some  of  the  persons 
at  whose  request  he  had  come,  had  been  denied  the 
privileges  of  Christian  fellowship  by  the  church  and  its 
pastor,  on  account  of  their  alleged  heretical  opinions, 
and  that  all  gf  them  had  formally  seceded  from  the 
parish.  It  appeared,  also,  that  the  clergyman,  who 
liad  taken  the  lead  in  this  affair  and  felt  himself  so 
nuich  aggrieved,  was  only  a  colleague,  and  tne  jmiior 
pastor  of  the  church;  that  the  senior  pastor,  a  man 
advanced  in  life  and  perfectly  respectable  in  his  char- 
acter, was  comparatively  liberal  in  his  views,  and  had 
no  objection  to  the  proposed  services ;  but  that,  with  a 
singular  want  of  decorous  regard  for  his  age  and  sta- 
tion, he  had  not  been  once  referred  to,  or  consulted  by, 


1 


LIFE    OP   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  149 

those  who  thus  undertook  to  speak  as  if  they  alone  had 
rights  in  the  matter.  Taking  all  these  things  into  con- 
sideration, my  brother  found  no  sufficient  reason  for 
relinquishing  the  design  which  had  brought  him  there, 
and  accordingly,  after  a  mild  but  firm  reply  to  these 
remonstrances,  he  preached  as  he  had  been  requested. 
Subsequently  other  services  were  held,  and  a  Unitarian 
Society  was  finally  established.  But  the  number  of 
worshippers  was  insufficient  for  its  maintenance,  and, 
after  a  few  years,  it  ceased  to  exist. 

In  tlie  autumn  of  this  year,  an  Association  for  Mu- 
tual Religious  Improvement  was  formed  by  some 
young  men  belonging  to  several  of  the  Unitarian  con- 
gregations in  Boston.  It  was  founded  in  an  excellent 
spirit,  and  proved  in  the  end  a  very  important  instru- 
ment, not  only  in  aiding  in  the  formation  of  a  religious 
character  among  its  members,  but  also  in  promoting  a 
variety  of  benevolent  and  religious  operations,  espe- 
cially Sunday  schools,  and  meetings  for  social  worship, 
among  the  poor.  It  is  with  a  view  to  its  connexion 
with  the  last-named  object,  that  the  existence  of  this 
Society  is  here  referred  to. 

In  November,  1822,  a  series  of  religious  services,  on 
Sunday  evenings,  was  projected  by  my  brother,  intended 
for  those  of  the  poorer  classes,  who  had  no  stated  places 
of  worship,  who  were  very  irregular  in  their  attend- 
ance at  church,  or  yAio  neglected  it  altogether.  It  was 
found,  that  the  number  of  such  persons  in  the  city  was 
very  considerable  ;  and  the  plan  was  entered  into  with 
the  hope,  that  lectures  given  in  their  immediate  neigh- 
borhoods, in  an  informal  way,  might  attract  their 
attention,  and  excite  an  interest  in  religion. 

This  plan  was  carried  into  effect  with  the  coopera- 
13=^ 


150  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE.   JR. 

tion  of  the  Rev.  Messrs.  Parkman  and  Palfrey,  and 
with  the  assistance  of  the  Society  just  alhided  to.  Its 
members  entered  heartily  into  the  necessary  measures. 
They  procured  suitable  rooms  and  other  conveniences, 
attended  and  assisted  at  the  meetings,  and  encour- 
aged the  attendance  of  those  for  whose  benefit  they 
were  held.  On  some  occasions,  when  the  minister 
who  was  to  officiate  was  accidentally  detained,  his 
place  was  taken  by  a  member  of  the  Society,  who  con- 
ducted the  devotional  exercises,  and  read  a  printed 
discourse.  These  meetings  were  held  at  four  different 
places,  (though,  I  think,  not  regularly  in  all  of  them,) 
in  the  North  and  West  parts  of  the  town,  namely,  in 
Charter  Street,  Hatters'  or  Creek  Square,  Pitts  Court, 
and  Spring  Street.  The  meeting  in  Charter  Street  was 
held  at  first  in  a  Primary  School  room,  and  afterward 
in  a  small  chapel,  built  by  Mr.  Henry  J.  Oliver,  and 
intended  by  him  partly  for  purposes  of  this  sort  and 
partly  as  a  school-room.  This  chapel  was  dedicated 
in  May  of  the  next  year,  by  a  religious  service,  con- 
ducted by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jenks  and  my  brother,  the 
latter  of  whom  gave  a  discourse  on  ''the  Uses  of  Ex- 
traordinary Religious  Meetings."  The  meetmg  in 
Pitts  Court  was  also  held  in  a  school-room,  occupied 
during  the  week  by  Mr.  Badger,  a  member  of  the  Soci- 
ety ;  and  that  in  Hatters'  Square,  in  a  private  room  in 
an  old,  dilapidated,  and  very  large  house,  which  for- 
merly stood  there,  inhabited  by  a  great  number  of 
families  of  the  poorer  sort.  This  building,  as  I  am 
told,  was  formerly  the  meeting-house  of  the  Congrega- 
tional Society  of  Watertown,  which,  more  than  a  hmi- 
dred  years  ago,  when  a  new  church  was  to  be  erected, 
was  taken  to  pieces,  removed  to  Boston,  and  converted 


I 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  151 

into  a  dwelling-house.  Here  the  accommodations,  and 
probably  the  audience,  were  of  a  humbler  character 
than  elsewhere.  Few  families  in  the  house  or  in  the 
neighborhood  occupied  more  than  a  single  room  each ; 
and  in  one  of  these  rooms,  as  I  am  informed  by  a  friend 
who  took  at  the  time  a  lively  interest  in  the  lectures, 
these  poor  people  would  collect,  part  of  them,  for  want 
of  other  accommodation,  seating  themselves  on  the  sides 
of  the  bedstead,  and  listen  to  the  instructions  of  the 
speaker,  whose  desk  was  a  pine  table,  and  whose  only 
light,  a  single  tallow  candle.  The  singing  was  con- 
ducted by  some  of  the  young  men  of  the  Association, 
who  were  delegated  for  this  purpose,  and  who  always 
performed  their  part  of  the  duty  with  the  most  exem- 
plary fidelity.  These  meetings  were  fully  attended, 
and  were  followed  by  the  most  satisfactory  results ; 
and,  if  they  were  blessed  to  that  class  of  persons  for 
whom  they  were  especially  designed,  they  were  not  less 
so  to  those  who  benevolently  engaged  in  their  manage- 
ment. 

I  add  a  letter  which  gives  some  account  of  one  of  the 
earliest  of  these  meetings.  It  is  from  the  pen  of  the 
gentleman  already  referred  to.  He  adds  to  this  account 
many  useful  suggestions  v/ith  regard  to  missionary 
operations  among  the  poor,  which  were  afterward  Ccir- 
ried  out  successfully  in  practice  by  ''the  Ministry  at 
Large." 

fiiom  henry  j.  oliver. 

"  Dec.  30,  1822. 
"  Our  meeting  in  Hatters'  Square,  last  evening,  was  encour- 
aging.    A  pretty  general  notice  was  given ;  in  one  house  1 
went  into,  there  were  eleven  families,  and  the  little  which  was 


152  LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR 


seen  of  them  brought  to  mind,  what  a  mingled  condition  is 
ours  !  In  one  room  was  a  man  who  was  sitting  by  the  fire, 
who  had  been  confined  to  the  house  (room  ?)  over  two  years. 
In  two  other  rooms  w^as  sickness  also ;  and  last  week  a  wo- 
man of  forty-five  years  was  buried,  and,  as  one  of  the  neigh- 
bors said,  '  like  a  dog;'  no  prayer,  and  hardly  any  one  in  the 
house  knew  she  was  dead,  till  the  town  hearse  came  to  the 
gate.  Only  one  of  these  families  attend  meeting,  it  is  believed. 
A  neighbor  said,  '  Much  is  done  for  the  heathen  abroad,  while 
we  have  them  at  our  own  doors.' 

"  Three  or  four  persons  out  of  this  house  were  got  into  the 
meeting,  and,  with  about  twenty  others,  constituted  those  who 
were  the  subjects  of  the  lecture.  The  others,  about  the  same 
number  more,  were  of  those  who  always  wdll  be  found,  from 
parishes  out  of  the  pale  of  which  they  do  not  go  on  the  Sab- 
bath, but,  at  an  evening  meeting,  feel  under  less  restraint  to 
their  minister  or  church,  and  indulge  themselves  in  hearing 
those  they  have  seldom  or  never  had  an  opportunity  of  hear- 
ing before.  Text,  '  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?' — discourse, 
half  an  hour  in  length.  Sang  Portugal,  Wells,  Mear ;  and, 
from  expressions  after  meeting  from  one  and  another,  a  gene- 
ral satisfaction  appeared  to  exist." 

These  meetings  were  followed,  and  ultimately  super- 
seded, by  the  establishment  of  the  Ministry  at  Large, 
under  the  care  of  Dr.  Tuckerman,  who  removed  from 
Chelsea  for  this  purpose  in  1826.  How  far  the  plan  of 
operations,  just  described,  was  the  occasion  of,  or  served 
to  suggest,  the  more  extended  and  systematic  enterprise 
to  which  it  gave  place,  I  am  not  able  to  judge.  The 
same  Association,  however,  which  had  most  earnestly 
supported  the  former,  continued  to  lend  efUcient  assist- 
ance in  the  promotion  of  the  latter.  The  chapel  in 
Friend  Street  was  built,  in  1830,  chiefly  by  the  exer- 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  153 

tions  of  its  members ;  and  this,  as  is  well  known,  has 
been  followed  by  the  erection  of  the  chapels  in  Pitts,  in 
Suffolk,  and  in  Warren  Streets,  as  part  of  the  same  sys- 
tem of  operations. 

My  brother's  immediate  connexion  with  this  ministry 
did  not  extend  beyond  the  spring  of  1823.  At  that 
period  the  state  of  his  own  health,  and  more  especially 
the  failing  health  of  his  wife,  and  the  consequent  inter- 
ruptions and  absence  from  home,  interfered  with  this  as 
well  as  many  other  engagements.  But  his  interest  in  it 
never  diminished ;  and  he  had  the  happiness  to  live  to 
see  the  Ministry  at  Large  recognized  as  an  integral  part 
of  the  organization  of  the  religious  community,  and 
established  in  many  other  places  both  at  home  and 
abroad. 

On  the  last  evening  of  the  year  1822,  he  preached  a 
sermon  in  his  church  from  the  text,  "So  teach  us  to 
number  our  days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto 
wisdom."  The  audience  was  large,  and  the  service 
impressive.  He  found  that  he  had  judged  rightly  in 
supposing  that  the  season  was  a  favorable  one  for  an 
earnest  appeal  to  the  hearts  and  consciences  of  men  on 
the  subject  of  religion,  and  he  continued  the  service 
every  year  during  his  ministry.  The  practice  has  been 
adhered  to  by  his  successors,  and  has  become  a  custom 
rendered  almost  hallowed  in  the  Second  Church  by 
time  and  sacred  associations.  Some  of  his  most  eifec- 
tive  eiforts  in  the  pulpit  were  on  these  occasions,  and 
Mr.  Robbins  speaks  of  them  and  of  the  custom  which 
they  originated  in  the  following  words  : 

"I  allude  to  the  Lecture  at  the  Close  of  the  Year ;  a  sacred 
and  affecting  occasion ;  which  has  always  been  associated  with 


154  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,  JR. 

his  image,  and  will  be  so,  henceforth,  still  more  intimately; — 
an  occasion  which  I  hope  may  be  solemnly  kept  by  our  children, 
when  we,  like  him,  shall  be  safe  from  the  wear  and  injury  of 
years ; — an  occasion  which  I  pray  may  never  become  obsolete 
in  the  Second  Church,  so  long  as  it  has  a  name  amongst  the 
members  of  Christ.  Mr.  Ware  was  peculiarly  qualified  to  do 
justice  to  a  service  like  this.  His  feelings  were  alive  to  all 
the  solemn  and  elevating  influences  of  the  hour.  His  spirit 
easily  sympathized  with  its  deep  religious  influence.  He 
interpreted  its  solemn  lessons,  as  a  prophet  would  interpret  the 
symbols  of  momentous  truths.  His  preaching  was  never  more 
impressive  than  on  these  occasions.  The  most  powerful  of  his 
published  sermons  was  delivered  at  the  close  of  the  year  1826. 
The  memory  of  that  discourse  and  that  night  will  go  with 
many  of  us  to  our  graves.  My  own  impressions  of  Mr.  Ware, 
as  a  preacher,  were  stamped  at  that  time, — once  for  all,  and  for- 
ever. The  fame  of  his  preaching,  mingled,  perhaps,  with 
some  chastened  feelings,  and  some  desires  reaching  after  the 
Eternal,  had  drawm  a  little  company  of  my  classmates  from 
Cambridge  to  this  church.  We  stood  in  the  crowded  gallery. 
The  preacher's  subject  was  '  the  Duty  of  Improvement,' — a 
theme  most  applicable  to  the  characters  and  feelings  of  the 
young.  Every  word,  and  tone,  and  gesture  was  calculated 
powerfully  to  impress  the  youthful  mind.  But  the  closing 
sentences,  especially,  came  home  to  the  heart  with  a  thrilling 
effect.  Their  sounds  lingered  on  the  ears  of  hundreds  through- 
out that  night.  Their  distant  echoes  come  back  to  me  now. 
No  words  from  mortal  lips  ever  affected  me  like  those.  I  can 
see  his  very  look, — I  can  hear  his  very  tone,  as,  with  the 
unction  of  a  Paul,  he  uttered  the  solemn  charge,  with  which 
that  discourse  concludes.  '  I  charge  you,  as  in  the  presence 
of  God,  who  sees  and  will  judge  you, — in  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ,  who  beseeches  you  to  come  to  him  and  live, — by  all 
your  hopes  of  happiness  and  life, — I  charge  you  let  not  this 


LIFE   OF   HENRY  WARE,   JR.  I55 

year  die,  and  leave  you  impenitent.  Do  not  dare  to  utter 
defiance  in  its  decaying  hours.  But,  in  the  stillness  of  its 
awful  midnight,  prostrate  yourselves  penitently  before  your 
Maker ;  and  let  the  morning  sun  rise  upon  you,  thoughtful 
and  serious  men.'  " 


CHAPTER    IX. 

RELIGIOUS   REVIVAL    IN    BOSTON — LETTERS  — SICKNESS  AND   DEATH    OF 
HIS    CHILD    AND    WIFE  — DISPOSAL    OF    HIS    FAMILY. 

1822-24.     JBT.  28-30. 

The  winter  of  the  year  1822-3  was  the  period  of  a 
vigorous  revival  of  religion  among  the  Orthodox 
churches  of  Boston  and  the  vicinity.  The  excitement 
was  extensive,  and  the  zeal  of  those  engaged  in  it, 
which  was  very  great,  did  not  appear,  to  persons  of 
different  sentiments,  to  be  always  sufficiently  moder- 
ated by  Christian  discretion,  or  kept  within  the  boimds 
of  Christian  charity.  There  was  some  secession  from 
Unitarian  societies  of  persons  who  were  led,  under  the 
excitement  of  the  times,  to  believe  that  their  faith  had 
not  been  well  founded ;  numerous  additions  were  made 
to  the  cluirches  of  the  Orthodox,  and  the  result  was 
probably  an  increase  in  the  relative  numbers  and  mflu- 
ence  of  that  sect.  Mr.  Ware  felt  that  this  matter  was 
regarded  with  somewhat  too  much  of  indifference  by 
his  brother  ministers.  He  did  not  look  upon  it  as  a 
light  affair,  or  as  one  in  which  it  became  them  to  be 
passive  and  uninterested  spectators.  He  thought  him- 
self and  them  to  be  called  upon  for  exertions,  not  to 
prevent  that  attention  to  the  subject  of  religion,  which 
had  been  excited,  but  to  turn  it  to  good  account.  He 
thought  that  they  should  avail  themselves  of  the  open 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WAREj   JR.  157 

State  of  the  public  mind,  and  of  the  disposition  which 
manifested  itself  among  all  people  of  all  sects  to  think 
and  talk  on  religious  matters,  to  produce  serious  im- 
pressions, and  establish  a  permanent  interest  in  the 
minds  of  the  community. 

At  tliis  period,  while  his  mind  was  interested  in  the 
subject,  he  addressed  a  letter  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Parker  of 
Portsmouth,  asking  his  opinion  and  advice  in  relation 
to  it.  The  topics  of  his  letter  are  sufficiently  indicated 
in  the  answer  which  he  received. 

from  the  rev.  dr.  parker. 

"  Portsmouth,  Feb.  24,  1823. 

"  What  then  is  to  be  done   by  Christians 

who  find  themselves  thus  rudely  assailed,  and  their  characters 
most  cruelly  aspersed  ?  They  are  to  place  themselves  on  their 
religious  principles,  and  to  find  their  support  in  them.  They 
are  to  go  to  their  work  animated  by  a  warm,  rational,  and 
benevolent  zeal,  and  to  confide  in  God  for  success.  Though 
reproached,  they  must  meekly  endure  the  trials,  and  guard 
themselves  against  being  poisoned  by  the  spirit  which  they 
lament  in  others.  Though  they  witness  much  that  is  irra- 
tional and  even  ludicrous  in  the  efibrts  of  those,  who  are 
adopting  every  species  of  management  to  promote  a  work 
which  they  ascribe  ivholly  to  God  ;  yet  the  rational  Christian 
is  not  to  hope  that  good  will  result  from  the  unsparing  use  of 
ridicule.  This  is  a  weapon  which  cannot  be  used  without 
danger  in  defence  of  the  sacred  cause  of  religion.  It  will  not 
be  felt  alone  by  those  who  lead^  but  it  will  be  felt  most  deeply 
by  those  who  follow ;  it  will  w^ound  and  alienate  them,  and 
many  of  this  class  are  really  honest,  and  by  persevering  kind- 
ness may  be  brought  to  consistent  goodness. 

"  Nor  can  any  good  be  effected  by  a  systematical  opposition 
to  what  is  usually  called  a  revival  of  rehgion.  Such  opposi- 
14 


158  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

tion  will  appear  to  many, — and  among  these  will  be  found 
many  really  pious  people, — to  be  made  to  religion  itself. 
Should  such  a  state  of  things  exist  among  you,  as  you  appre- 
hend, I  doubt  not  but  that  it  may  be  turned  to  good  account. 
You  will  find  your  people  more  constantly  turning  their 
thoughts  to  religious  subjects.  You  will  have  opportunity  to 
address  them  with  pungency  upon  the  truth,  w^hich  many  of 
them,  no  doubt,  have  suffered  to  lie  rather  indolently  upon 
their  minds.  You  will  feel  it  to  be  your  duty  more  frequently 
to  converse  with  them  affectionately  in  private,  as  you  per- 
ceive that  they  eagerly  and  feelingly  enter  upon  religious  con- 
versation. In  discharging  this  duty,  you  will  strengthen  and 
gratify  the  best  feelings  of  your  heart.  If  need  be,  you  will 
not  refuse,  as  you  may  be  able,  to  hold  extra  meetings  for 
religious  purposes,  always  preserving  that  decorum,  that  affec- 
tionate, rational  and  yet  moving  form  of  address,  which  distin- 
guishes enlightened  Christians  from  dogmatists,  enthusiasts, 
and  fanatics. 

"  You  see  how  dangerous  it  is  to  ask  me  questions.  I 
have  tried  your  patience,  and  perhaps,  too,  manifested  a  dis- 
position to  dictate  on  a  subject  on  w^hich  I  need  instruction.  I 
will  say  no  more,  but  merely  express  my  persuasion,  that, 
though  you  may  be  called  to  a  severe  trial  of  some  of  the 
Christian's  graces,  you  will  have  ultimately  occasion  to 
rejoice ;  and  my  earnest  wish  is  for  your  success  in  every 
effort  to  do  good. 

"  Your  friend  and  brother, 

"Nathan  Parker." 

The  following  extracts  from  other  letters,  written 
during  the  period  we  have  just  gone  over,  serve  further 
to  illustrate  some  of  the  subjects  which  have  been 
already  alluded  to,  and  to  show  w^hat  was  the  course 
of  his  thoughts  on  several  other  topics. 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  159 

TO     A     YOUNG     CLERGYMAN     IN      DOUBT     ABOUT     ACCEPTING     AN 
INVITATION    TO    BE    SETTLED. 

''July  2,  1S21. 

"  For   myself,   however,  I  feel  much  less 

decided.  I  have  always  been  an  advocate  for  a  man's  going 
wherever  there  was  a  clear  call,  and  have  always  wished  that 
there  was  more  of  that  sense  of  duty,  which  would  lead  to 
making  some  sacrifices  for  the  general  good  of  the  church. 

Now,  B is  a  place  of  importance,  where  a  man  may  be 

very  useful, — yes,  and  very  happy ;  and  how  is  it,  that  one 
should  not  make  such  a  sacrifice,  as  would  be  required  to  go 
and  do  so  important  service  ?  Other  men  are  giving  up 
friends,  country,  and  home  for  life;  and  cannot  we  go  two 
hundred  miles,  not  into  the  desert,  not  among  pagans,  but 
among  civilized  Christians,  and  within  three  days'  journey  of 
all  that  we  love  ?  I  confess  that  such  considerations  influence 
me  a  little,  and  not  a  little. 

"  I  have  thought,  from  many  things  in  your  letters,  that 
you  had  a  considerable  liking  to  the  place,  and  it  is  more  than 
confirmed  by  the  contents  of  this.  I  have  no  doubt  you  would 
be  happy  and  useful,  probably  as  much  so  as  in  any  place  ; 
for  truly,  from  what  I  can  observe,  'place  is  of  little  conse- 
quence." 

to  his  brother  w^illiam. 

"  Jan.  28,  1822. 

"  I  preached  a  sermon  yesterday  on  '  Her- 
esy,' which  my  people,  some  of  them,  w^ant  to  have  printed, 
but  I  shall  not  do  it. 

"  1.  '  What  is  Heresy?'  answered  by  an  examination,  seri- 
atim, of  all  the  texts  in  v/hich  the  word  ui^eaig  is  used. 
2.  Wherein  consists  its  sinfulness.  3.  Wherein  its  danger. 
4.  The  history  of  the  church,  showing  that  heresy  is  always 
the  minority.  5.  Be  not  fond  of  giving  the  name  to  others. 
6.  Be  not  concerned  if  others  give  it  to  you. 


160  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

"  I  preached  my  extempore  lecture  on  Friday  evening  to  a 
great  crowd,  on  the  question,  '  Why  are  you  not  a  Trinita- 
rian ? '  I.  (negatively)  1.  Not  because  the  doctrine  is  a  mystery. 
2.  Not  because  I  elevate  reason  above  revelation, — but,  II. 
(positively)  1.  Because  the  favorite  phraseology  of  the  doctrine 
is  not  Scripture  language,  but  human  (copious  examples.) 
2.  Because  the  doctrine  is  not  once  written  in  express  terms  in 
the  New  Testament.  Only  three  texts  pretended ;  one  of 
them  a  forgery;  the  other  two  say  nothing  o^  personality  ox 
un'ily,  therefore  do  not  prove  it.  3.  Because  there  are  four 
strong  and  explicit  denials  of  the  doctrine,  which  have  never 
been  shown  to  be  consistent  with  it,  and  cannot  be  so  shown, 
viz.,  John  xvii.  3 ',  1  Tim.  ii.  5 ;  1  Cor.  viii.  6 ;  Mark  xiii.  32. 
In  examining  this  last  text,  I  spoke  of  the  two  natures.  This 
is  only  half  of  the  subject,  which  I  am  to  finish  next  week." 

TO    THE    SAME. 

"  March  9,  1S22. 

"  What  you  say  of  your  preaching  is  encouraging,  but  I 
want  to  hear  more  minutely.  I  think  the  opinion  of  Demos- 
thenes should  be  amended  so  as  to  read,  '  Courage  is  the  first, 
second,  and  third  thing  for  the  orator.' 

"  Your  plan  for  a  course  of  sermons  I  think  excellent;  but  I 
really  cannot  at  once  direct  to  books  which  may  help  you. 
The  best  aid  you  will  derive  from  reading  over  and  over,  with 
a  view  to  the  subject,  the  books  of  the  New  Testament.  You 
must  keep  in  mind  the  principles  of  Locke's  Preface  and  some 
of  Campbell's  '  Dissertations,'  and  Taylor's  '  Key.' 

"  As  to  Controversial  Preaching,  to  be  sure,  it  is  less  pleas- 
ant, and,  for  the  main  purpose,  less  profitable ;  but,  in  your 
situation,  absolutely  necessary,  with  more  or  less  directness,  for 
nearly  half  the  time.  And,  under  this  necessiu'-,  it  is  a  real 
comfort,  that  it  is  the  easiest  preaching  possible.  One  may 
write  two  good  doctrinal  sermons,  while  he  would  be  laying 
out  the  heads  of  a  decent  spiritual  or  moral  one.     Because, 


I 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  161 

First,  the  train  of  thought  is  old,  familiar,  and  beaten ;  you 
have  nothing  to  do  but  to  talk  on,  and  catch  up  such  illustra- 
tions as  suggest  themselves.  Secondly,  a  good  doctrinal  ser- 
mon is  made  up  of  scriptural  quotations,  and  illustrations,  and 
arguments  from  them ;  all  which  is  easier  than  invention  on  a 
subject  of  duty  which  is  not  at  the  moment  particularly  inter- 
esting, and  gives  life  to  you  by  the  necessity  of  turning  over 
dictionaries  and  commentaries ;  an  exercise  in  itself  profitable 
to  both  mind  and  body.  So  that  you  may  regard  doctrinal 
preaching  as  the  very  best  thing  one  half  the  time  for  the 
parish,  for  the  adversary,  and  for  yourself.  Only  never  forget 
to  be  scrupulously  good-natured  and  squeamishly  fair.  The 
most  detestable  thing  on  earth  is  bad  passion  and  unfairness 
in  the  pulpit ;  and  I  would  a  thousand  times  rather  that  you 
were  blind  and  dumb  too,  than  hear  that  you  are  guilty  of  such 
an  offence. 

"  I  have  been  intending  to  write  to  you  an  Epistolary  Trea- 
tise on  Expository  Preaching  and  on  Extempore  Speaking, 
and  on  one  other  topic  which  I  now  forget.  On  all  subjects  I 
shall  throw  in  a  word  as  occasion  may  offer,  afid  wish  you 
would  let  me  know  what  you  think  of  my  suggestions.  As 
to  Expository  Preaching,  you  know  my  opinion.  I  advise  you 
to  read  carefully  Mr.  Tuckerman's  articles  in  the  first  volume 
of '  The  Disciple.'  I  plead  for  it  strongly,  as,  First,  most  use- 
ful to  the  people.  Secondly,  to  the  cause  of  truth,  especially 
in  your  situation.  Thirdly,  most  pleasant  and  interesting, 
also,  to  hearers,  who  really  are  vastly  more  pleased  to  hear 
even  a  common-place  explanation  of  an  important  or  curious 
passage  of  Holy  Writ,  than  a  very  logical,  philosophical,  and 
elegant  discussion  of  a  topic  in  m.orals  or  metaphysical  divinity,  - 
the  use  of  which  they  cannot  fathom,  and  of  whose  beauties 
of  arrangement,  allusion,  and  diction,  very  few  have  any  per- 
ception.    Fourthly,  it  is  easiest  also  to  yourself. 

"  Everything  that    Dr.  Mason  said  on  this  subject  in  his 
farewell  sermon,  I  hold  to  be  perfectly  true  and  w^ell  founded 
14* 


162  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAllE,    JR. 

and  worth  attending  to,  except  his  assertion  of  its  difficulty ; 
for  a  man,  who  has  been  well  grounded  in  theology,  and  the 
principles  of  Biblical  knowledge  and  interpretation,  will  find 
the  labor  comparatively  easy,  and  rather  a  recreation.  He 
may,  to  be  sure,  so  far  dig,  and  search,  and  inquire,  and 
examine  such  minute  questions  of  profound  and  far  learning, 
as  to  make  it  exceedingly  laborious.  But  this  is  not  necessary 
in  order  to  useful  exposition.  Not  many  books  need  be  con- 
sulted, for  the  most  part,  nor  any  extraordinary  learning  be 
brought  into  requisition.  Most  passages  cannot  need  them 
for  elucidation;  and,  as  to  the  main  object,  doctrinal  and 
practical  inferences,  they  come  upon  you  in  crowds. without 
being  sought.  Take  the  Book  of  Acts.  What  more  profitable 
or  interesting,  than  to  remark  on  and  exhibit,  seriatiin,  the 
evidences  it  contains  of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  of  the 
doctrines  preached  at  that  time,  of  the  characters  of  the 
Apostles  and  others,  and  all  the  ten  thousand  moral  lessons 
that  are  implied  and  inculcated  ?  And  how  can  it  be  anything 
but  a  pleasant  and  easy  task  to  do  this,  adding  to  your  knowl- 
edge at  every  step,  and  making  a  dozen  sermons  without  being 
conscious  of  one  hour's  labor  ?  I  do  not  know  any  book  to  be 
preferred  to  this  for  this  purpose." 

to  the  same. 

"  March  29,  1822. 
"  I  suppose  you  would  account  it  a  small  objection,  that  a 
man  always  grows  tired  of  writing  a  series  of  sermons  before 
he  has  got  through  ;  and,  as  to  a  settled  order  of  controversial 
discourses  why  you  must  be  guided  entirely  by  views  of 
'expediency  in  your  situation.  I  suppose,  for  my  own  part;  it 
is  necessary,  and  therefore  you  are  right.  But,  as  to  your 
plan,  I  fear  you  will  find  some  serious  difficulties.  First,  it  is 
impossible  that  it  should  he  fully  executed  ;  for  such  an  intro- 
duction of  texts,  as  would  produce  satisfactory  results,  could 


LIFE    OF    HENIIY    WARE,    JR.  163 

not  be  brought  forward  except  in  a  long  series  of  sermons, 
which  would  stand  a  chance  of  being  dry,  from  the  inevitable 
accumulations  of  Scripture  quotations.  Secondly,  you  would 
be  obliged  to  examine  every  text  Avhich  is  accounted  strong  on 
the  other  side — a  delicate  business,  in  doing  which  you  never 
would  satisfy  yourself  or  others.  It  is  the  hardest  of  tasks  to 
make  the  explanations  in  any  measure  intelligible  to  a  mixed 
audience,  who  will  be  confounded  with  your  talk  about  various 
readings,  translations,  grammar,  &c.  &c. ;  and  yet  most  of 
those  texts  absolutely  require  such  critical  discussion.  You 
cannot,  however,  omit  any  of  them  in  an  examination  of  wit- 
nesses. 

"  This  is  a  great  difficulty.  Another  arises  from  the  very 
nature  of  cross-examinations.  It  is  too  great  a  piece  of  courtesy 
into  which  we  have  fallen,  in  suffering  our  adversaries  to 
choose  the  witnesses,  and  being  ourselves  contented  to  show 
our  ingenuity  in  proving  that  their  testimony  is  not  to  be 
listened  to.  It  is  very  impolitic.  Everybody  knows  that  any 
one  may  find  witnesses  to  come  into  court,  and  some  evidence, 
pretty  plausible  too,  may  be  adduced  on  any  side  of  any  ques- 
tion ;  and  he  would  be  a  fool  that  would  rest  his  cause  on  the 
contradiction  which'he  might  detect  in  the  witnesses  of  the 
other  side.  The  justest  cause  would  be  lost  in  this  way. 
Yet  this  is  the  mode  which  we  have  too  much  followed.  And 
I  venture  to  say,  that  those  texts  are  too  crusty  ever  to  be  set 
aside,  except  by  diligently,  repeatedly,  constantly,  arraying  our 
texts  on  the  other  side,  and  preoccupying  the  ground  with 
them.  You  are  not  a  Unitarian  because  those  difficulties 
were  removed  first,  and  the  way  so  cleared ;  but  because  you 
got  so  settled  on  the  opposite  texts,  that  no  counter  texts  could 
move  you,  whether  explicable  or  inexplicable.  And  this  must 
be  the  true  course  ;  when  the  mind  is  filled  with  the  arguments 
for  the  Unitarian  doctrine,  they  are  so  strong,  that  the  diffi- 
culties and  obscurities  on  the  other  side  vanish  of  themselves. 


164  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

They  have  no  weight,  even  if  they  cannot  be  cleared  up.  In 
this  view  I  consider  it  more  necessary  to  be  repeating  continu- 
ally four  or  five  texts  and  simple  considerations  on  our  side, 
than  anything  else. 

"  This  leads  to  another  remark  ;  you  like  your  plan  because 
it  forbids  Repetition.  I  dislike  it  for  that  very  reason.  Repe- 
tition is  very  necessary.  There  are  some  texts  which  ought 
not  to  be  kept  out  of  sight  a  moment ;  some  arguments  also. 
But  enough  of  this,  and  perhaps  I  do  not  precisely  enter  into 
your  plan.  At  any  rate,  through  the  Historical  books  you 
can  pursue  it  without  much  difficulty,  and  with  great  probable 
good. 

"  As  to  the  matter  of  preexistence,  it  were  best  to  leave  it 
alone.  It  is  of  small  consequence,  and  I  am  not  sure,  for  one, 
that  it  is  not  the  truth.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  the  language 
of  our  Lord  and  the  Apostles,  which  I  cannot  find  satisfactorily 
explained  on  any  other  supposition.  But  this  is  a  subject  on 
which  I  acknowledge  myself  profoundly  ignorant,  and  willing 
to  remain  ignorant,  till  I  reach  a  world  where  I  shall  be  more 
sure  of  knowing  the  truth." 

to  the  same. 

"  December  2,  1822. 

"  In  regard  to  the  matter  of  catechizing,  I 

think  it  should  be  continued,  without  interruption,  through  the 
whole  year,  unless  circumstances  forbid  ;  otherwise  the  children 
may  lose,  during  the  intermission,  what  they  have  learned. 
Perhaps  an  occasional  intermission  may  be  well,  but  not  at 
regular  times.  As  to  the  mode,  I  conceive  that  the  learning 
and  repeating  of  answers  is  the  smallest  part  of  the  business. 
It  amounts  to  nothing,  unless  you  explain,  and  be  sure  they 
understand,  and  fix  ideas  in  their  minds,  rather  than  words  in 
their  memories.  For  example  ;  let  the  answer,  which  the  child 
gives,  be  the  basis  of  a  new  question ;  and  follow  it  up  with 


LIFE   OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  165 

question  after  question,  and  illustration  upon  illustration,  as 
long  as  you  can  go,  and  until  you  are  sure  that  every  impor- 
tant word  is  understood,  and  every  important  truth  felt.  In 
doing  this,  appeal  as  much  as  possible  to  their  own  experience, 
and  ask  personal  questions  relating  to  their  own  conduct 
and  habits.  This  is  the  mode  which  I  have  practised,  and 
which  I  conceive  to  be  the  true  mode.  Others  pursue  the 
same.  A  great  interest  is  sometimes  excited  among  the 
children  in  this  way.  They  become  very  earnest ;  they  ask 
explanations  of  their  parents  at  home,  and  thus  do  them  good 
also.  You  sometimes,  too,  may  found  an  address  or  exhorta- 
tion to  them  on  some  sentiment  which  comes  up ;  and  this 
may  aid  you  in  forming  the  habit  of  extemporaneous  speaking. 

"  Your  former  letter,  by  mail,  I  received,  and  proceed  to 
answer  it.  I  rejoice  at  the  spirit  in  which  you  seem  to 
begin  your  winter's  work.  I  never  yet  have  doubted  you,  and 
doubt  you  less  and  less  daily.  I  am  glad  that  Greenwood  en- 
couraged you ;  it  was  just  and  kind.  I  am  glad  you  printed  in 
'  The  Unitarian  Miscellany.'  It  will  do  good  to  others,  and 
credit  to  yourself;  and  everything  will  be  good  for  you,  which 
helps  to  increase  a  just  and  rational  confidence  in  your  own 
powers. 

"I  am  concerned  at  the  account  you  give  of  your  eyes. 
Bear  up  as  you  can,  and  make  the  best  of  it.  If  there  were 
no  other  reason,  their  situation  is  an  imperious  one  for  ridding 
yourself  of  your  troublesome  anxiety  respecting  your  devotional 
service,  of  which  ^^ou  complain.  Whenever  you  cannot  study, 
get  up  and  talk  aloud  on  some  subject.  Do  this  an  hour  a 
day ;  make  it  a  settled  habit.  Do  no  talk  at  random,  but  on  a 
given  topic,  and  as  if  you  addressed  an  audience.  Recite,  in 
this  way,  the  last  chapter  in  morals,  or  the  last  novel,  or  ser- 
mon, which  you  have  read.  In  one  year  after  pursuing  this 
plan,  you  will  have  gained  a  facility  of  expression,  and  com- 
mand and  fluency  of  language,  which  will  enable  you  to 
preach  with  coUectedness  and  confidence. 


166  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

"  Depend  upon  it,  I  do  not  exaggerate.  I,  myself,  never 
practised  half  so  much  as  this  in  private  ;  and  yet  I  speak  once 
a  week,  and  sometimes  oftener,  without  anxiety  or  failure ; 
though  sometimes  I  get  mortified.  Do  but  consider,  what  a 
saving  of  eyesight  and  anxiety  this  would  be,  and  how  much 
time  you  may,  in  the  mean  while,  redeem  by  this  mode  of 
study ;  how  many  fine  chapters  of  fiaie  authors  you  may  lay 
up  in  your  mind  by  thus  repeating  them  aloud  in  your  own 
words,  and  with  your  own  emendations,  &c.  &:c.  Do  try  it. 
Especially,  as  regards  your  prayers,  let  your  seasons  of  private 
personal  devotion  be  more  frequent  and  longer  continued-,  and 
consist  not  merely  of  a  mental  exercise,  but  of  the  audible 
utterence  of  your  sentiments  and  petitions. 

"  You  complain  of  diflficulty  in  manner,  and  you  suggest 
the  only  cure, — familiarity  with  your  sermons.  No  man  can 
do  his  best,  if  he  be  a  stranger  to  his  manuscript.  Men  have, 
in  spite  of  your  skepticism,  finished  sermons  on  Wednesday. 
Some  always  do  it.  For  myself,  I  never  write  well  till  Satur- 
day ;  but  it  is  very  much  habit.  And,  from  what  you  say  of 
yourself,  I  conceive  that  you  have  no  duty  more  important  than 
that  of  writing  early  in  the  week,  at  least  a  great  proportion  of 
your  sermons,  that  you  may  have  time  to  read  them  over.  I 
feel  your  difficulty ;  but,  unless  you  can  find  some  other  way 
of  becoming  familiar  with  your  discourses,  you  ought,  at  any 
sacrifice,  to  take  this  mode,  and  write  on  Monday. 

"  As  to  Sunday  schools,  we  begin  to  think  them  important, 
and  shall  establish  some  soon.  I  hope  you  will  do  the  same. 
There  are  signs  of  a  better  spirit  and  growing  zeal  amongst 
us.  We  are  opening  private  Sunday  evening  lectures  among 
the  poor  in  different  parts  of  the  town,  and  intend  to  introduce 
the  Cambridge  students  to  the  good  work.  Other  matters, 
also,  too  numerous  to  tell. 

"  My  dear  wife  is  better,  and,  I  trust,  gaining.  The  babe 
is  declining,  and  probably  will  be  taken  from  us.  But  it 
could  not  go  at  a  better  age,  and  we  ought  to  be  content,  that 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  167 


God  should  disappoint  us.  I  never  have  known  trouble,  and 
it  may  be  good  for  me. 

"  Write  when  you  can,  and  let  us  exchange  a  list  of  sub- 
jects. 

"  Your  brother  Henry." 
In  the  autumn  of  1822  he  writes 

TO    MR.  ALLEN. 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  resign  my 

editorship.  Four  years  is  long  enough  ;  and  I  do  not  feel  it 
right  to  throw  away  so  much  time  in  such  drudgery.  The 
income  is  no  compensation,  and  nothing  but  my  zeal  for  the 
cause  would  be  stimulus  enough.  I  can  now  do  more  good 
in  some  other  way. 

"  I  have  commenced  my  Friday  evening  service,  and  think 
of  a  Sunday  lecture  besides ;  to  be  preached  on  a  series  of 
connected  subjects,  by  such  gentlemen  as  may  be  willing  to 
help  me.     "What  do  you  think  of  the  plan  ? " 

This  respite  from  editorial  labor  did  not  continue  a 
very  long  time ;  for,  in  the  course  of  the  next  year,  or 
next  year  but  one,  we  find  him  engaged  in  the  manage- 
ment of '' The  Christian  Register,"  in  connexion  with 
Messrs.  Gannett,  Lewis  Tappan,  and  Barrett,  each  of 
them  taking  charge  of  one  page.  The  paper  was 
changed  in  form  and  appearance,  and  Mr.  Ware  had 
the  general  superintendence  and  the  charge  of  all  the 
original  matter.  This  arrangement,  however,  was  only 
temporary. 

Through  this  winter,  he  was  laboring  constantly 
under  great  anxiety  with  regard  to  the  health  of  both 
his  wife  and  his  youngest  child.  On  the  2d  of  Decem- 
ber, 1822,  he  speaks  of  them  thus  : 


168  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

TO   MR.  ALLEN. 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  say,  that  there  is  a  gradual  and 
decided  improvement  in  Elizabeth's  health  and  appearance, 
though  I  dare  not  flatter  myself.  As  to  little  Henry,  we  have 
every  reason  to  apprehend  that  he  will  not  be  spared  long. 
He  wastes  rapidly,  but  suffers  little.  Yet  we  are  not  despond- 
ent; for  we  remember  your  boy,  and  build  hopes  upon  his 
recovery. 

"  The  anxiety  and  apprehension  I  am  undergoing  in  relation 
to  my  family  are  something  new  to  me.  I  have  never  yet 
known  adversity,  nor  anything  but  the  accomplishment  of 
every  wish  of  my  heart.  No  man  has  been  more  blessed. 
But  I  have  always  thoicght  of  the  afflictions  which  are  inevi- 
table in  human  life,  and  trust  I  have,  in  some  measure,  pre- 
pared myself  to  meet  them.  That  I  need  them,  I  am  very 
sensible  ;  that  they  would  do  me  good,  I  cannot  doubt ;  yet 
how  earnestly  could  I  pray  that  the  cup  might  pass  from  me. 
But  then  life  would  not  answer  its  end,  and  there  are  some 
duties  of  the  ministr}^  which  no  man  seems  capable  fufly  of 
performing  tfll  he  has  met  them.     See  2  Cor.  i." 

The  child,  with  occasional  promise  of  amendment, 
continued  to  linger  till  the  middle  of  March,  1823,  when 
its  death  is  thus  noticed : 

"  He  remained  much  in  the  state  in  which  you  saw  him, 
growing,  indeed,  a  little  weaker,  and,  toward  the  last,  suffering 
more.  He  passed  through  a  severe  agony  at  about  five  o'clock 
on  Thursday  morning ;  after  which  he  seemed  to  go  to  sleep 
quietly,  and  in  that  state  breathed  away  his  life.  We  were  as 
much  prepared  for  the  event  as  parents  probably  ever  are  ;  and 
our  first  feeling,  I  think,  was  one  of  relief,  that  he  was  at 
length  quit  q/"  his  sufferings,  and  would  never  know  pain 
more." 


JR.  169 

The  health  of  Mrs.  Ware  fluctuated  for  a  year  longer. 
In  the  summer,  in  company  with  her  husband,  she 
made  a  short  journey  through  Pennsylvania  and  New 
York ;  but,  though  her  condition  occasionally  improved 
for  short  periods,  she  regularly  declined ;  and,  after  her 
return  in  the  autumn,  hardly  again  left  her  chamber. 
She  died  on  the  9th  of  February,  1824,  at  the  age  of 
thirty. 

These  were  the  first  severe  afflictions  which  my 
brother  had  ever  experienced  since  arriving  at  mature 
life.  His  letters  contain  many  intimations  of  his  sensi- 
bility to  this  exemption  from  all  great  calamities ;  and 
the  almost  trembling  solicitude  with  which  he  looked 
forward  to  the  trial  of  his  faith  and  hope,  to  which  they 
would  subject  him,  when  they  should  occur,  as  he 
knew  they  must.  On  the  present  occasion,  as  on  the 
loss  of  his  child,  the  long  sickness  and  the  protracted 
and  unusually  severe  sufferings  of  the  deceased,  as  they 
had  prepared  him  for  the  separation,  had,  in  a  certain 
degree,  reconciled  him  to  it.     He  writes  to  a  sister  thus : 

"  February  23,  1824. 

"  You   may   more   easily  imagine,  than  I 

could  say,  what  is  the  state  of  my  feelings,  and  how  desolate 
I  am  as  I  look  forward.  I  have  not  only  lost  a  most  devoted 
and  exemplary  wife,  but  the  event  sets  me  adrift  in  the  world, 
breaks  up  my  plans,  and  changes  my  whole  lot.  Yet  I,  per- 
haps, have  as  many  alleviations  as  fall  to  any  one's  share  in 
an  affliction  of  this  nature ;  and,  considering  the  protracted 
sufferings  to  which  she  has  been  subject,  and  which  she  would 
have  continued  to  endure,  I  look  on  it  as  a  release  for  her,  and 
pray  that  it  may  be  a  salutary  trial  for  myself.  But  there  are 
moments  when  I  hardly  know  how  to  bear  it.  Yet  I  have 
been  looking  forward  to  it  for  two  years  constantly,  and  had 
15 


170  LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

become  so  familiar  with  the  expectation,  that  I  ahnost  feared  I 
had  grown  indifferent  to  it,  and  shuddered  at  my  own  inscnsi- 
bihty. 

"  The  children  are  uncommonly  hearty  and  very  happy. 
They  feel  nothing  of  their  loss,  and  appear  to  regard  it  but  as 
a  visit  which  mother  is  making  to  little  Henry.  I  am  only 
middlingly  well  myself,  but,  by  air  and  exercise,  hope  to  be 
soon  strong." 

The  following  is  a  letter  to  the  sister  of  his  wife, 
Mrs.  William  Ware.' 

"  Sunday,  April  1,  1824. 
"  As  to  talking,  I  have  no  heart  for  it,  and 


am  glad  to  be  silent.  I  believe  it  is  far  better  to  be  thus,  than 
at  board,  both  on  my  own  account  and  the  children's.  I  do 
not  know  that  I  could  be  more  situated  to  my  mind.  I  am  too 
much  occupied  to  have  many  hours  for  thinking  on  my  situa- 
tion, though  there  are  some,  of  a  bitterness  you  may  well 
imagine.  Sometimes  I  think  I  have  no  heart,  and  wonder  at 
i)iy  insensibility.  At  others,  I  know  not  how  to  support  my- 
self. I  was  at  ]\Irs.  May's  the  other  evening,  and  Mrs.  Greele 
sung  the  whole  of  Sir  J.  E.  Smith's  Hymn,  with  such  expres- 
sion, that  I  was  completely  overcome,  and  could  bid  nobody- 
good  night.  I  never  felt  the  beauty  of  that  hymn  before.  I 
was  called  to  a  wedding  last  Sunday.  It  had  not  occurred  to 
me  what  a  scene  I  was  to  witness  ;  and,  being  therefore  off  my 
guard,  when  I  found  myself  in  the  middle  of  the  service,  I 
was  quite  overcome,  and  with  difficulty  could  command  myself 
so  as  to  go  through.  Such  are  some  of  the  trials  of  feeling  I 
am  constantly  meeting ;  who  is  there  that  can  enter  into  them 
as  you  can  ? 

"  I  often  think  I  could  almost  complain,  that  you  must  be 
away  from  me.  There  is  none  other  that  has  been  with  me 
as  you  have,  or  whose  presence  could  now  give  me  that  mde- 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  171' 

scribable  sort  of  soothing  and  support,  which  is  just  what  I 
want,  and  all  that  I  want.  But  I  must  not  indulge  this.  To 
all  the  world  I  seem  as  I  have  always  done.  Nobody  knows 
what  my  loss  is,  or  what  I  feel  in  secret.  There  is  nobody 
but  you,  to  whom  I  can  tell  it ;  and,  if  I  thought  I  should  add 
to  your  unhappiness,  I  would  hold  my  tongue.  But  I  cannot 
deny  myself  the  satisfaction  of  giving  vent  to  some  of  my 
feelings.  It  was  at  the  close  of  Sunday,  and  days  like  this, 
that,  after  the  service  of  the  day,  I  used  to  taste  the  full  and 
peculiar  enjoyment  of  domestic  happiness ;  and,  at  the  return 
of  this  time,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  feel  it.  What  could  I  do 
without  the  children  ?  They  take  up  my  time  and  beguile  my 
feelings  ;  and  yet  it  is  thinking  of  them,  that  serves  to  aggra- 
vate the  sadness  of  my  situation. 

"  Dear  Mary,  I  am  not  repining,  or  murmuring  against 
Providence ;  but  I  shall  be  the  easier  for  giving  way  to  these 
expressions,  and  shall  be  the  more  composed  to  find  comfort 
in  my  prayers." 

Of  the  sources  of  consolation  to  which  he  turned, 
we  have  sufficient  indication,  by  referring  to  those 
which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  pointing  out  to  others, 
when  laboring  under  similar  afflictions.  What  these 
were,  and  in  what  manner  he  was  accustomed  to  ex- 
hibit them,  can  in  no  mode  be  so  well  displayed,  as 
by  introducing  the  two  following  letters,  not  written, 
indeed,  at  this  period,  or  with  reference  to  his  own  state 
of  mind,  but  still  most  suitable  to  be  read  in  connexion 
with  this,  the  greatest  trial  of  the  kind  which  he  was 
called  on  to  encounter.  It  should  be  observed  concern- 
ing the  second  letter,  that  it  was  written  at  the  request 
of  a  friend,  who  desired  his  aid  in  removing  certain 
painful  associations  in  her  mind  with  regard  to  death. 


172  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

"My  dear  Sir, 

"  I  have  been  more  concerned  than  I  can  express,  to  hear 
of  your  affliction,  and  take  the  earliest  moment  to  assure  you 
of  my  sincere  and  deep  sympathy.  Your  boy  appeared  to  me 
a  child  of  promise  as  great  as  parents  are  ever  blessed  with. 
You  had  a  right,  as  far  as,  in  the  uncertainty  of  earthly  things, 
we  can  ever  have  a  right,  to  place  your  hopes  upon  him,  and 
calculate  upon  deriving  happiness  from  what  he  should  be  and 
do.  I  believe  I  can  imagine,  in  some  measure,  what  must  be 
the  feelings  of  a  parent  at  the  removal  of  such  an  object  of 
affection  and  hope.  I  have  often  looked  upon  my  own  boy  with 
the  apprehension  that  he  might  be  taken  from  me  when  I  was 
cherishing  him  most  dearly ;  and  I  have  known  that  the  grief 
of  a  parent  must  be  most  bitter  indeed.  But,  then,  we  have 
been  accustomed,  in  the  cultivation  of  our  religious  spirit,  to 
reflect  on  the  appointments  of  Providence,  and  to  feel  that 
all  blessings  are  merely  lent  by  God's  favor,  and  are  to  be 
recalled  at  his  pleasure.  We  have  enjoyed  them,  as  temporary 
possessions  only,  and  we  yield  them  up  to  Him  who  gave  them, 
not  without  sorrow  at  the  parting,  but  yet  as  an  event  by  no 
means  unexpected. 

"  It  is  now  that  we  find  the  value  of  our  religion,  and  can 
rejoice  that  we  are  Christians.  If  it  were  not  for  the  firm  persua- 
sion that  this  is  true,  and  for  the  confidence  and  trust  which  it 
may  inspire,  it  seems  to  me  the  hour  of  sorrow  would  be  utter 
darkness.  Without  the  knowledge  of  a  just  and  fatherly 
Providence,  which  we  obtain  here, — without  the  glorious  truths, 
promises,  and  hopes,  which  we  find  here, —  what  is  there  that 
could  give  any  tranquillity,  could  reconcile  us  at  all  to  adversity, 
or  save  us  from  absolute  dismay  of  heart  and  despair  ?  If  I 
did  not  feci  any  of  the  trust  which  religion  gives,  I  should 
leave  my  mourning  friends  to  themselves;  I  could  not  speak 
to  you.  I  should  regard  it  as  an  empty  mockery  of  their 
suflferings.  For  the  amount  of  consolation  then  would  be ; 
*  You  cannot  help  it,— you  cannot  help  it.     And  what  comfort 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  173 

is  there  in  that?  How  I  rejoice,  then,  that  we  are  Christians. 
For,  if  men  will  open  their  hearts,  a  balm  may  be  poured  in, 
which  shall  soothe  the  most  troubled  soul.  Now  we  can  say, 
not  only,  '  You  cannot  help  it,'  but,  '  It  is  well  that  you  can- 


"  My  dear  Mrs.  T , 

"  I  have  this  moment  received  your  letter  of  the  day  before 
yesterday,  and  hasten  to  reply.  I  was  overcome  with  surprise 
at  hearing  of  Mr.  A.'s  death ;  for  I  had  hoped,  from  your 
report,  that  he  was  recovering.  I  can  fully  sympathize  with 
you-r  feelings  at  his  removal,— valued  friend  that  he  was,  and 
full  of  promise  as  his  character  and  talents  were.  But  your 
first  feeling,  of  course,  must  be,  that,  the  more  fit  he  was  to 
live,  the  more  fit  to  die  ;  the  greater  reason  there  may  be  for 
mourning,  the  gTeater  reason  for  being  comforted ;  and  the 
thought  of  what  he  was,  the  pleasant  recollections  that  are 
associated  with  his  name,  will  give  a  sort  of  melancholy  pleas- 
ure amid  grief;  while  the  thought  of  what  he  is,  and  the 
expectation  of  meeting  him  again  in  a  higher  state,  will  give 
at  times  even  a  joyfulness  to  your  mind. 

"  I  say,  the  thought  of  what  he  is.  You  have  seen  his  body 
resting  in  its  dark  house,  and  have  come  away,  you  say,  im- 
pressed with  that  unpleasant  image.  But  is  that  he  ?  Is  that 
body  the  friend  that  you  loved  ?  Certainly  not ;  he  is  farther 
from  that  tomb  than  you  are,  and  does  not  waste  a  thought 
upon  it.  Why  then  should  you  ?  When  I  think  of  what  he 
is,  I  am  thinking  of  the  spirit,— I  forget  the  body ;  I  almost 
forget  that  he  ever  had  a  body  ;  I  fancy  him  to  myself  living, 
rejoicing  among  the  spirits  of  heaven  ;  and,  while  I  think  of 
him  thus,  I  feel  quite  as  much  delight  as  sadness.  This  is 
what  I  think  you  should  make  an  effort  to  do.  Why  should 
you  be  turning  your  thoughts  at  all  to  the  poor  clay  he  has 
left  behind,  when  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  turn  them  to 
15* 


174  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

those  pure  and  happy  scenes  where  he  is  now  enjoying,  as  we 
may  reasonably  trust,  such  felicity  as  earth  cannot  give  ? 

"  Let  me  tell  you  a  word  of  my  own  experience.  I  have 
lost  many  veiy  near  and  dear  friends ;  but  I  declare  to  you, 
that,  by  following  this  rule  which  I  advise  you  to  follow,  I 
have  always  found  more  than  consolation,  even  a  high  and  sin- 
gular pleasure  in  the  midst  of  grief.  I  have  forced  my  mind 
away  from  the  body,  the  tomb,  the  decay,  and  have  allowed  it 
to  think  only  of  the  immortal  soul,  freed  from  earth  and  happy 
in  heaven.  I  have  buried  my  dead, — that  is,  their  bodies, — 
not  only  out  of  sight,  but  out  of  mind.  I  have  not  suffered 
myself  to  feel  that  my  friends  are  dead,  but  only  that  they 
have  gone  home,  are  living  in  another  place,  a  better  place, — 
still  thinking,  active,  loving,  and  happy ;  thus,  in  fact,  they  are 
not  dead  to  me ;  as  our  Saviour  teaches,  they  all  are  alive 
unto  God.  So  unto  my  heart  they  are  alive  ;  and  I  scarcely 
am  conscious  that  they  ever  had  bodies  that  could  decay. 
They,  themselves,  are  imperishable. 

'*  I  lately  removed  to  Mount  Auburn  the  remains  of  two, 
dearly  beloved,  and  long  since  gone.  I  opened  the  cofRns,  and 
saw  that  nothing  remained  but  dust.  There  was  nothing  in 
this  at  all  unpleasant  to  my  feelings  ;  quite  otherwise ;  for  it 
made  me  feel  a  sort  of  triumph  in  the  faith,  that  Death  had 
done  his  worst,  and  yet  that  he  had  not  touched  my  friends. 
They  were  not  here.  I  had  been  thinking  of  them,  and  almost 
speaking  to  them,  for  years,  as  the  happy  and  glorified  crea- 
tures of  heaven.  I  could  not  fancy  them  as  having  anything 
to  do  with  that  poor  dust  before  me ;  and  the  sight  of  it  only 
served  to  awaken  gratitude  to  my  Saviour,  and  strengthen  my 
feeling  of  nearness  to  heaven. 

"  Excuse  me  for  dwelling  thus  on  my  own  case.  I  have 
done  it  because  I  felt  I  could  thus  more  easily  explain  what  I 
mean,  when  I  beg  you  to  think  no  more  of  the  perishing  body. 
Why  should  you  not  come  from  the  tomb  of  your  friend,  as  I 
came  from  that  of  mine,  lifted  to  heaven,  rather  than  troubled 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  175 

by  earth's  darkness  and  decay  ?  Why  should  you  not  come 
away  repeating  to  yourself  the  words  of  the  angel,  '  He  is  not 
there  ;  he  is  risen.' 

"  You  will  gather,  from  what  I  have  expressed,  my  views 
on  the  two  points  about  which  you  particularly  ask  me.  The 
truth  is,  my  dear  friend,  that  I  have  the  fullest  and  most 
undoubting  conviction,  that  the  soul,  immediately  on  the  death 
of  the  body,  passes  to  its  final  state ;  that  consciousness  is  not 
for  a  moment  interrupted ;  and  that  death  is,  in  fact,  to  the 
spirit,  nothing  more  than  going  from  one  mansion  of  the  Great 
Father's  house  to  another.  I  do  not  feel,  therefore,  as  if  my 
friends  were  dead  ;  my  feeling  is,  that  they  do  not  die  ;  '  He 
that  believeth  in  me  shall  never  die.'  Do  you  remember 
Newton's  beautiful  hymn  ? 

"  '  In  vain  the  fancy  strives  to  paint 

The  moment  after  death, 
The  glories  that  surround  the  saints, 

On  yielding  up  their  breath. 

"  '  One  gentle  sigh  their  fetters  breaks  ! 
We  scarce  can  say  they  're  gone, 
Before  the  wilhng  spirit  takes 
Her  mansion  near  the  throne.' 

"  This  seems  to  me  the  true  expression  ;  and  then,  when  we 
too  quit  the  flesh  and  follow  them,  I  think  we  shall  as  certainly 
know  them  there  as  we  knew  them  here.  I  cannot  conceive 
it  should  be  otherwise.  It  cannot  be,  that  they  and  we  shall 
be  worshipping  together  through  eternity  in  heaven,  perhaps, 
side  by  side,  and  not  know  each  other.  I  am  as  confident 
that  I  shall  know  them,  as  that  I  shall  know  my  Saviour ;  it 
would  be  absurd  to  suppose,  that  the  twelve  Apostles  will  not 
know  each  other,  or  that  Paul  and  his  converts  will  not,  when 
he  has  called  them  his  crown  of  joy,  in,  the  day  of  the  Lord. 
Yet  if  they  are  to  recognize  each  other  and  renew  the  friend- 
ship and  intercourse  of  earth,  so  must  it  be  with  all  the  faith- 
ful ;  and  it  is  a  most  beautiful  and  comforting  thought. 


176  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

"  If  I  have  at  all  met  your  wishes,  I  shall  be  grateful ;  and, 
if  I  can  clear  up  anything  further,  say  so,  and  let  me  write 
again.  I  feel  that  it  is  not  always  easy  to  enter  into  another's 
feelings,  and  I  may  have  failed  to  do  so  now.  Indeed,  I 
always  feel  the  insufficiency  of  human  aid,  and  the  appropri- 
ateness of  the  Psalmist's  prayer,  '  Give  T/^o?^  help  from  trouble, 
for  vain  is  the  help  of  man.'  May  He  bless  you  and  yours. 
"  Very  sincerely,  your  friend, 

"H.  Ware,  Jr." 

By  the  death  of  his  wife,  my  brother  was  left  in 
charge  of  two  children,  at  an  age  peculiarly  requiring  a 
mother's  care.  He  was  not  well  adapted,  by  his  natu- 
ral temperament,  or  by  his  acquired  habits,  to  be  charged 
with  this  responsibility  alone.  Though  not  at  all  insen- 
sible to  the  proper  relation  and  duties  of  a  parent,  he 
naturally  tended  to  an  abstracted  state  of  mind,  to  a 
complete  absorption  in  his  own  thoughts  and  his  own 
occupations,  which  led  to  a  species  of  neglect  of  those 
thousand  little  points,  which  are  so  necessary  to  domestic 
discipline,  but  which  can  only  be  properly  attended  to 
by  a  mother. 

In  his  case,  also,  the  confidence  which  he  had  felt, 
that  the  interest  of  his  children,  in  this  particular,  would 
always  be  cared  for,  had  made  him  easy  in  the  indul- 
gence of  the  desire  to  devote  himself,  perhaps  too  exclu- 
sively, to  his  studies,  his  parish,  and  the  public.  For 
some  months  after  his  wife's  death  he  continued  house- 
keeping, Avith  the  aid  of  his  sister  Harriet,  afterwards 
Mrs.  Edward  B.  Hall.  This  arrangement  lasted  till  the 
autumn,  Avhen  he  gave  up  his  house.  His  children,  still 
under  the  charge  of  the  same  sister,  were  sent  to  North- 
borough,  into  the  family  of  Mr.  Allen,  and  he  himself 
took  lodgings  at  Mr.  Hey  wood's,  one  of  his  parishioners, 
residing  in  Salem  Street. 


CHAPTER    X. 

STATE  OF  HIS  CHURCH  AND  PARISH — POEM  ON  THE  VISIT  OF  LAFAY- 
ETTE—EXTEMPORANEOUS PREACHING  — VARIOUS  PUBLICATIONS  — 
COMMENTARY  ON  THE  BIBLE  — AMERICAN  UNITARIAN  ASSOCIATION 
FORMED  — BUNKER-HILL    MONUMENT   CELEBRATION. 

1824-25.     ^^T.  30-31. 

The  following  letters  relate  to  some  of  the  subjects 
and  events  which  interested  him  during  the  season  sub- 
sequent to  the  occurrences  recorded  in  the  last  chapter. 

TO    MRS.    WILLIAM   WARE. 

"  May  24,  1S24. 

"  There  is  no  time  for  writing  like  that  when  one  has  just 
received  a  letter ;  and  therefore  I  begin  this  the  moment  I  have 
read  yours  by  Mr.  Fox.  It  is  Election  week,  and  I  shall 
probably  not  be  able  to  finish  till  Saturday ;  but  I  will  at  once 
pour  out  my  egotism,  as  you  express  yourself  to  have  been 
concerned,  from  my  silence,  lest  I  was  not  well.  It  was  only 
my  eyes,  and  my  driving  about  the  parish.  My  eyes  are 
better,  and  my  health  is  greatly  improved  by  my  constant  exer- 
cise abroad.  Since  March,  I  have  made  about  three  hundred 
parish  visits,  besides  many  others.  I  have  about  forty  families 
yet  to  visit.  I  intend  to  persevere  in  the  same  course  through 
the  summer,  as  I  find  I  do  good,  and  may  thus  prevent  the 
necessity  of  journeying.  My  seeing  New  York  is  out  of  the 
question,  as  I  said  in  my  last.  I  shall  go  to  New  Bedford  and 
Nantucket,  but  probably  not  elsewhere. 


178  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

"  I  talk  of  sending  Harriet  and  the  children  to  Nonhhorough 
for  a  month,  if  Lucy  can  have  them ;  and,  as  she  wishes  to 
make  a  visit  home,  I  shall  have  a  few  weeks  entirely  alone. 
I  shall  not  be  sorry  for  this.  I  have  not  been  enough  alone, 
and  I  do  not  care  how  much  time  I  have  for  the  parish,  now 
that  I  feel  engaged  in  seeing  it.  We  are  organizing  our 
church  as  a  religious  and  charitable  Society ;  to  have  quar- 
terly meetings,  to  aid  benevolent  purposes,  to  help  each  other 
in  temporal  and  religious  things,  and  to  promote  a  spirit  of 
union  and  mutual  acquaintance  and  interest.  I  think  we  shall 
also  try  a  plan,  which  Mr.  Walker  has  adopted.  The  mem- 
bers, in  rotation,  invite  such  as  they  are  acquainted  with  to 
spend  Sunday  evening  at  their  houses  in  religious  conversa- 
tion, the  minister  with  them.  Thus,  different  circles  meeting 
at  different  places,  by  and  by  all  the  members  meet  and  become 
known  to  all  others.     Great  good  must  come  from  it." 

Of  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Gannett,  as  colleague  with 
Dr.  Channing,  he  says,  July  Gth,  1S24 : 

"  We  had  a  most  delightful  ordination  on  Wednesday.  It 
is  not  possible  for  you  to  conceive  the  excitement  produced  by 
Dr.  Channing.  I  never  have  seen  the  enthusiasm  equalled. 
To  hear  such  a  sermon,  is  one  of  the  memorable  things  in  a 
man's  life.  It  forms  an  epoch  in  his  existence.  You  will 
soon  see  it,  I  trust.  Gannett  excites  a  strong  interest  in  the 
parish,  and  he  will  doubtless  be  a  great  acquisition  to  the 
town." 

The  first  of  the  above  letters  refers  to  a  plan,  which 
he  had  carried  into  effect,  to  increase  the  prosperity  of 
the  church,  to  promote  its  religious  nifluence  and  its 
power  of  doing  good,  by  giving  it  a  more  social  aspect, 
and  to  use  means  for  creathig  sympathy  and  securing 


LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  179 

cooperation  among  its  members.  His  OAvn  words,  how- 
ever, will  serve  best  to  explain  his  views.  They  are 
contained  in  a  report  made  to  the  church. 

"  The  great  principle,  on  which  the  prosperity  and  edifica- 
tion of  the  church  must  depend,  appears  to  your  committee  to 
have  been  entirely  overlooked  in  the  general  habits  of  all  the 
churches  with  which  we  are  connected.  This  is  the  princi- 
ple of  association,  union,  sympathy,  cooperation.  The  church 
is,  in  its  very  essence,  an  association.  Its  very  design  and 
constitution  is  to  effect  the  purposes  of  personal  improvement, 
and  to  extend  the  influence  of  religion,  by  mutual  counsel,  aid, 
and  cooperation.  Hence,  the  Apostles  emphatically  call  it 
one  body,  and  its  members,  memlers  one  of  another. 

"  If  this  be  forgotten,  and,  instead  of  a  constant  union  m 
worship  and  action,  Christians  only  meet  infrequently  at  the 
table  of  the  Lord,  this  primary  purpose  is  lost  sight  of,  and  it 
cannot,  therefore,  be  expected  that  the  greatest  religious  pros- 
perity should  be  attained.  When  Jesus  framed  the  model  of 
his  church,  he  in  a  manner  set  the  example,  the  first  example, 
of  that  union  by  systematic  association,  which  has  since  ex- 
tended so  far,  and  has  wrought  such  powerful  effects  in  the 
world.  Is  it,  then,  consistent,  that  the  church  should  be  the 
first  to  relinquish  this  principle  ?  And  must  it  not  be  expected 
to  become  weak  and  inefficient  by  abandoning  it,  just  in  pro- 
portion as  it  first  became  strong  by  adhering  to  it  ?  Let  us, 
then,  henceforth  resolve  to  regard  this  church  as  an  associa- 
tion, actually  and  actively  united  for  the  accomplishment  of 
religious  and  benevolent  purposes." 

The  result  of  this  attempt  was  not  only  an  increased 
activity,  zeal,  and  religious  interest  in  the  church,  but 
the  gradual  accumulation,  by  voluntary  contributions, 
of  a  fund,  which  Avas  at  length  sufficient  for  the  erec- 
tion of  a  spacious  and  commodious  vestry. 


180  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

The  Society,  in  the  mean  time,  had  been  constantly 
increasing.  The  meeting-house,  which  had  remained 
unahered  from  its  original  construction,  was  so  arranged, 
in  the  old-fashioned  manner,  as  to  accommodate  but 
few  hearers  in  proportion  to  its  size.  Several  slight 
alterations  had  been  made  from  time  to  time,  to  increase 
its  capacity;  but,  in  the  summer  of  1823,  it  was  deter- 
mined to  remodel  it  entirely.  The  interior  was  accord- 
ingly taken  out,  new  galleries  were  made,  the  pews 
were  reduced  in  size,  and  their  number  was  increased. 
There  was,  as  a  consequence,  a  very  considerable  addi- 
tion to  the  number  of  families  in  the  congregation. 

The  summer  of  1824  was  rendered  memorable  by  the 
visit  of  Lafayette  to  the  United  States.  He  visited 
Boston  in  the  latter  part  of  August,  and  attended  the 
Commencement  at  Harvard  College  in  the  last  week  of 
that  month.  Mr.  Ware  participated  deeply  in  the  gen- 
eral enthusiasm  excited  by  this  event,  and  was  acci- 
dentally led  to  take  a  part  in  the  public  services  to 
which  it  gave  occasion.  Lafayette  had  accepted  an 
invitation  to  attend  the  annual  celebration  of  the  Soci- 
ety of  Plii  Beta  Kappa,  on  the  day  after  Commence- 
ment. The  selection  of  Mr.  Edward  Everett,  as  the 
orator  of  the  year,  rendered  it  certain  that  so  far  the 
literary  entertainment  of  the  day  would  be  worthy  of 
the  occasion.  But  the  person  originally  appointed  to 
deliver  a  poem  failed  to  make  his  appearance,  and  my 
brother  came  to  supply  his  place  under  the  circum- 
stances described  below. 

«  August  2S,  1824. 
"  You  may,  perhaps,  guess  what  an  exhilar- 
ating week  this  has  been.     Nothing  can  exceed  the  splendor 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  181 

and  happiness  of  the  occasion.  The  scenes  in  the  meeting 
house,  and  at  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  dinner,  beggar  description. 
Y'ou  have  seen,  by  the  paper,  that  I  presumed  to  manufacture 
a  poem  for  the  occasion.  It  happened  thus.  On  Sunday- 
evening,  Father  told  me  two  remarkable  dreams  of  Mr.  Pack- 
ard and  Mrs.  Fluker,  about  the  year  1794.  They  struck  my 
fancy,  and,  amid  the  strong  excitement  of  the  week,  I  versi- 
fied them ;  and,  Percival  not  appearing,  I  offered  to  declaim 
them.  I  hope  I  have  escaped  the  charge  of  presumption, 
which  I  suppose  I  deserved,  but,  in  the  fervor  of  the  season, 
had  no  time  to  think  of.  If  any  assail  me  with  it,  '  I  '11  print 
it,  and  shame  the  fools.' 

"  Everett's  oration  was  very  fine.  The  con- 
cluding address  to  Lafayette  was  one  of  the  most  affecting  and 
overpowering  efforts  of  eloquence  I  ever  -witnessed ;  it  shook 
the  whole  audience,  and  bathed  every  face  in  tears.  When  he 
sat  down,  it  was  followed  with  nine  cheers  and  an  interminable 
clapping.  Luckily  I  had  spoken  first.  Two  hundred  dined 
with  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  and  there  was  a  stream  of  wit  and 
fine  feeling  flashing  and  flowing  for  two  hours,  with  a  bril- 
liancy and  rapidity  that  left  no  time  to  drink  or  speak,  or  to 
hear  anything  but  cheerings,  and  clappings,  and  laughings. 
Lafayette  enjoyed  it  highly,  and  cannot  meet  anything  in 
America  to  surpass  or  equal  what  he  has  seen  and  enjoyed 
this  week.  What  a  favored  man  is  he  !  enjoying  '  a  triumph,'  as 
Everett  very  well  said,  '  such  as  consuls  and  monarchs  never 
knew.'  One  toast  of  Lafayette,  at  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  has 
not  found  its  way  into  the  paper ;  it  was  a  comparison  of  the 
political  institutions  of  America  with  those  of  Europe,  and 
ended  with  an  application  of  these  words  of  Cicero :  '  Quas 
est  in  hominibus  tanta  perversitas,  ut,  frugibus  inventis, 
glande  vescantur  ? '  " 

It  is  not  intended  to  give  an  account  of   all   Mr. 
Ware's  literary  productions  in  each  year,  as  we  pass 
16 


182  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

over  it.  The  more  important  ones  will  require  some 
notice ;  but,  for  tlie  remainder,  the  reader  is  referred  to 
the  complete  list  of  his  published  writings,  given  at 
the  close  of  the  work. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1824,  he  published  an  Es- 
say, entitled  "  Hints  on  Extemporaneous  Preaching." 
This  subject  had  engaged  a  considerable  share  of  his 
attention  for  some  years,  as  is  shown  by  several  allu- 
sions in  his  letters  from  Exeter.  He  had  a  strong 
impression  of  the  value  of  the  ability  to  preach  extem- 
poraneously,— of  the  greater  impression  which  is  fre- 
quently thus  produced, — of  the  absolute  necessity, 
mider  some  circimistances,  of  being  able  to  improve 
particular  occasions  to  the  advantage  of  hearers,  by 
remarks  suggested  by  time,  place,  and  events.  He  was 
not  naturally  fluent ;  he  had  not  that  ready  current  of 
words  which  flows  from  some  persons  without  effort, 
and  often  without  ideas.  Besides  this,  a  constitutional 
diffidence,  or  rather,  it  might  be  called,  bashfulness, 
stood  very  much  in  the  Avay  of  his  efforts;  and, 
although  sufficiently  self-possessed  when  speaking  in 
public  with  common  preparation,  he  was  much  less  so 
when  attempting  to  address  an  audience  without  a 
written  discourse.  Still,  his  strong  conviction  of  the 
importance  of  this  accomplishment  induced  him  to  per- 
severe in  acquiring  it.  His  first  attempts  were  made  in 
the  weekly  evening  meetings  which  he  held  with  his 
people ;  and  it  was  not  till  after  long-continued  disci- 
pline here,  that  he  ventured  to  trust  himself  in  the 
delivery  of  an  unwritten  discourse  from  the  pulpit.  He 
did  this  for  the  first  time  in  August,  1819,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  "the  Pharisee  and  the  Publican."  From  this 
time,  to  the  end  of  his  ministry,  he  continued  the  prac- 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  183 

tice.  About  one  in  six  or  seven  of  the  new  discourses, 
which  he  prepared  in  every  year  afterwards,  was 
extemporaneous.  Of  the  labor  and  difficulty  which 
attended  him  in  this  discipline,— of  his  frequent  mis- 
givings and  imperfections,  and  sometimes,  as  he 
regarded  them,  failures,  he  frequently  spoke  in  his 
letters. 

to  his  brother  william. 

"  April  6,  1827. 
"  Don't  give  up  the  ship  for  one  unfortunate  fire.  Why,  I 
have  suffered  worse  than  Indian  torture  fifty  times ;  but  then  I 
had  Indian  perseverance ;  and  it  is  only  by  not  flinching,  that 
we  can  gain  the  great  end  at  last.  You  must  expect,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  sometimes  to  do  ill.  The  state  of  mind, 
state  of  health,  stomach  and  bowels,  nature  of  the  dinner  you 
have  just  eaten,  &;c.  &c.,  all  these  unaccountably  affect  the 
power  of  the  mind.  And,  then,  sometimes  you  will  make  too 
much  preparation,  that  is,  try  to  arrange  icords,  and  some- 
times make  too  little,  that  is,  arrange  no  thoughts,  and  in 
either  case  you  will  flounder.  After  beginning,  it  were 
wicked  to  be  disheartened.  Up  again,  and  tahe  another ; 
that 's  the  mode  in  which  children  learn  to  walk,  and  by  which 
you  must  learn  to  talk." 

He  persevered  through  all  discouragements,  and 
at  length  acquired  a  great  readiness  at  extemporaneous 
speaking,  especially  on  the  occasions  for  which  he 
chiefly  valued  it,  viz.,  where  some  event  or  circum- 
stance, as  in  public  meetings,  for  instance,  required 
immediate  attention.  Under  such  circumstances  he 
spoke  most  easily  and  most  happily  without  any  prep- 
aration, uttering  the  thoughts  which  were  suggested 
at  the  time.     The  extemporaneous  discourses,  which 


184  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

were  delivered  in  the  regular  course  of  his  duty,  were 
prepared  with  considerable  care,  and  probably  very 
little  time  or  study,  if  any,  was  saved  by  this  method. 
Still,  it  proved  a  most  valuable  aid  to  him  in  after  life, 
when,  from  disease  of  the  eyes,  he  was  unable  to  write 
out  his  sermons  at  length,  or  even  to  read  those  which 
were  written. 

The  results  of  his  reflection  and  experience  on  this 
subject  were  embodied  in  the  work  just  mentioned.  It 
met  with  much  favor,  and  he  received  from  persons  of 
many  denominations  expressions  of  the  satisfaction 
which  had  attended  its  perusal. 

The  habit  which  he  had  labored  so  faithfully  to 
acquire  himself,  he  labored  to  induce  others  to  acquire ; 
and  one  object  of  his  exertions,  Avhen  he  was  subse- 
quently an  instructor  of  young  clergymen,  was  to 
induce  them  to  aim  at  this  accomplishment,  and  to 
assist  them  in  attaining  it.  This  book  has  passed 
through  several  editions,  both  in  this  country  and  in 
Europe. 

He  also  published,  in  the  same  3^ear,  "  The  Recol- 
lections of  Jotham  Anderson,"  intended  to  illustrate  the 
hfe  of  a  New  England  country  clergyman.  It  appeared 
originally  in  "The  Christian  Register,"  in  separate 
mnnbers,  afterwards  collected  into  a  volume,  of  which 
two  or  more  editions  have  been  printed.  This  book, 
though  professedly  fictitious,  embodies  many  recollec- 
tions of  his  own  early  life,  and  many  of  the  experiences 
of  his  more  mature  years.  There  is  probably  very  lit- 
tle of  it  which  has  not  its  foundation  in  reality,  though 
no  part  in  which  the  story  is  an  exact  picture  of  life.  It 
was  published  anonymously,  but  the  authorship  was 
suspected  some  time  before  it  was  actually  acknowl- 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  185 

edged.     In  a  letter  of  March  9th,  1825,  he  thus  speaks 
of  it: 

"I  hear  that  it  is  reported  at  Martha's  Vineyard,  that  I 
\YTote  '  Jotham  Anderson.'  Do  you  know  anydiing  about  it  ? 
I  see  the  old  gentleman  is  at  work  again,  and  would  be  as 
glad  to  know  if  it  is  I,  as  Sosia  was  to  know  himself.  My 
impartial  judgment  would  lead  me  to  decide  it  can't  be  I ;  for 
I  don't  see  how  in  the  world  I  could  find  time  for  it  now, 
while  I  am  writing  tales  for  children,  and  carrying  a  volume 
of  sermons  through  the  press.  My  impression,  therefore,  is, 
that  the  folks  at  Edgar  ton  Old-town  must  be  a  little  mis- 
taken." 

The  other  productions  referred  to  in  this  extract 
were,  a  little  book,  written  for  the  amusement  and 
instruction  of  his  son,  called  "Robert  Fowle,"  which 
he  also  published  ;  and  a  volume  of  "  Sermons  on  the 
Offices  and  Character  of  Jesus  Christ,"  which  he  printed 
in  the  spring  of  1825.  These  discourses  were  not  pre- 
pared with  any  view  to  publication.  They  ^vere  writ- 
ten in  the  ordinary  course  of  ministerial  labor,  at 
various  times;  but,  constituting  a  tolerably  connected 
series,  and  exhibiting  Avhat  he  thought  important  views 
of  the  subjects  to  wdiich  they  related,  he  believed  their 
publication  Avould  be  useful.  They  were  extensively 
circulated,  and  afterwards  reprinted. 

About  the  same  period  he  projected,  and  began  the 
preparation  of,  a  "  Commentary  and  Family  Bible." 
He  writes  thus  of  it : 

TO   MR.    ALLEN. 

"  I   am  seriously  thinking  of  undertaking  a  Commentary 
and  Family  Bible.     Who  else  will  do  it  ?     With  my  feelings 
16* 


186  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

of  its  importance,  is  it  not  my  duty  ?  The  task  is  enough  to 
frighten  one ;  but  it  must  be  done  by  somebody, — and 
he  must  remember  the  Discontented  Pendulum.  What  do 
you  advise  me  ?  Father  rather  urges  it ;  he  mentioned  it  of 
his  own  accord.  Walker  says,  that  it  will  be  as  well  received 
from  me  as  from  any  one,  and  that  he  knows  no  one  else  who 
is  likely  to  grapple  with  it.  Tell  me  what  you  think.  I 
frankly  confess  it  appalls  me,  and  I  think  mj-self  better  suited 
to  something  else.  I  have  not  the  learning,  &c.,  and  my 
habits  of  thinking  and  waiting  give  me  a  predilection  for  some 
other  work.  But  I  must  do  something,— and  is  not  a  man 
bound  to  do  what  he  knows  will  be  most  useful,  if  he  has  rea- 
son to  think  he  can  do  it  usefully?  And,  if  people  tell  him 
so,  must  he  not  think  so  ?  I  want  to  decide  soon ;  for,  unless 
I  have  something  on  hand,  I  waste  time  too  abominably  for 
man  to  bear,  who  has  an  account  to  give.  Besides,  in  my 
solitary  state,  I  cannot  be  happy  without  an  object,  which 
shall  strongly  interest  and  engross  me.  I  only  want  to  know 
what  that  object  should  be;  a  poem, —  a  romance, — a  system 
of  divinity, — a  history,  — or  anything  that  I  can  do.  Let  me 
know  what,  and  I  '11  go  to  work." 

June  16th,  he  says  :  "  I  have  begun  my  Commentary 
in  earnest,  and  have  revised  the  translation  as  far  as 
Matthew,  xi." 

To  this  attempt  he  had  been  rather  urged  by  others 
.than  led  by  his  own  preference.  Labor  of  this  kind 
was  somewhat  distasteful  to  him.  His  studies  and 
habits  of  thought  had  not  led  him  in  this  direction.  It 
was,  besides,  a  task  requiring  too  long  attention  to  one 
object,  for  a  person  of  his  temperament,  which  disposed 
him  to  engage  in  enterprises  to  be  completed  by  a  few 
sliort,  frequent,  and  vigorous  efforts,  rather  than  in 
such  as  required  protracted  and  patient  labor.     Hence, 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  187 

although  for  many  years  he  occasionally  worked  upon 
this  Commentary,  and  made  some  progress,  he  never 
entered  into  it  with  that  zeal  and  earnestness,  which 
were,  with  him,  essential  to  the  accomplishment  of  his 
purposes. 

In  the  "anniversary  week"  in  May,  of  this  year, 
1825,  was  formed  the  American  Unitarian  Association; 
an  event  in  which  he  took  much  interest,  and  which  he 
did  much  to  promote.  "Have  you  heard,"  he  wrote 
to  his  brother,  June  9th,  "  of  our  great  '  American  Uni- 
tarian Association,'  formed  in  Election  week?  I  hope 
something  from  it.  Burton  is  scouring  the  land  for 
auxiliaries.  You  must  have  one  in  New  York.  The 
officers  are,  E.  S.  Gamiett,  Secretary,  (and  his  whole 
soul  in  it,)  Lewis  Tappan,  Treasurer,  (and  his  soul 
the  same,)  A.  Norton,  J.  Sparks,  and  J.  Walker,  Direc- 
tors. The  objects  of  it,  cheap  doctrinal  tracts,  mission- 
ary preachers,  and  a  bond  of  union  to  all  of  the  name 
throughout  America.  We  have  a  Vice-President  in 
every  section  of  the  country,  all  laymen."  Of  this 
Association  he  was  always  an  active  member,  and,  both 
as  Foreign  Secretary  and  as  one  of  the  Directors,  took 
a  constant  interest  in  it,  and  contributed  much  to  its 
successful  operation. 

In  May,  he  writes  thus 

TO    HIS    SISTER   HARRIET. 

"  I  do  not  at  all  wonder  that  you  are 

inclined  sometimes  to  distrust  yourself  wholly ;  for  there  is  no 
more  difficult  task.  You  are  very  inexperienced,  and  those 
who  have  had  the  most,  and  the  most  successful,  experience, 
are  very  prone  to  be  dissatisfied  with  themselves.  It  is  a 
painful  state  of  mind,  to  be  sure;  but  salutary,  I  believe; — 


18S 

for,  when  one  is  quite  self-satisfied,  one  ceases  to  take  the 
necessary  pains  to  do  well.  We  need  the  feeling  of  deficiency 
to  keep  us  awake  and  active.  So,  also,  in  regard  to  your 
own  personal  improvement,  that  sense  of  deficiency,  which  is 
sometimes  almost  desponding,  operates  to  keep  one  humble, 
and  to  show  the  necessity  of  continued  watchfulness  and  exer- 
tion. What  person  did  you  ever  know  to  improve,  who 
felt  perfectly  satisfied  ?  Who  ever  became  all  that  he  ought  to 
be,  that  fancied  himself  already  such  ? 

"  I  have  felt  all  that  you  describe  ;  I  have  been  spell-bound 
and  harassed  by  the  same  constitutional  thoughtlessness  and 
carelessness.  It  subjects  me  to  constant  mortifications  and 
shame ;  and  my  great  misfortune  is,  that  my  success  in  my 
calling,  which  I  never  can  think  of  without  amazement,  serves 
to  render  me  too  insensible  to  a  fault,  which  I  am  ready  to 
think  hidden  by  attainments  in  other  particulars.  I  mention 
this  only  to  show,  that  I  fully  enter  into  your  case. 

"  '  Where,  then,  is  the  remedy?'  you  ask.  In  the  remedy 
for  all  habits,  which  grow  up,  as  this  has  done,  from  natural 
tendencies  and  long  neglect  of  counteraction ;  only  in  equally 
long  struggles  against  it,  long  and  patient  effort,  continued  and 
unrelaxing  perseverance.  It  must  be  made  a  business, — per- 
haps the  business  of  life.  This  is  our  peculiar  trial.  In  other 
respects  we  are  more  happily  constituted,  and,  by  the  infinite 
blessings  of  education  and  situation,  are  saved  from  other  moral 
temptations,  and  virtue  is  made  easy.  But,  in  all  that,  there 
is  no  credit, — I  had  almost  said,  no  virtue ;  because  no  effort. 
We  must  make  effort  for  something ;  and  this  is  that  some- 
thing ;  here  lies  our  probation.  If  we  habitually  regard  it  in 
this  light,  we  shall  not  despair,  but  shall  go  on  cheerfully. 

*'  The  great  point  is, — and  in  this  we  specially  have  to  strug- 
gle against  this  constitutional  evil, — to  maintain  a  strong, 
active,  and  fervent  spirit  of  devotion ;  to  secure  the  constant 
and  paramount  action  of  the  religious  principle  and  rehgious 
motives.     I  fear,  that  it  is  here  we  especially  fail,  and  that  our 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  189 

carelessness  in  this  must  be  cured,  before  a  thorough  remedy- 
can  pervade  our  characters.  I  judge  of  your  case  by  my  own. 
I  do  think  you  have  probably  erred  in  this  particular, — that 
carelessness,  I  mean,  of  which  you  speak, — more  than  I  did ; 
I  have  been  more  favorably  situated.  But  I  have  perceived 
in  you,  for  a  long  time,  a  visible  and  growing  improvement ; 
and,  with  the  desire  you  manifest  to  go  on,  I  do  not  doubt, 
you  will  completely  conquer  at  last.  Do  not,  however,  rely 
on  the  sufficiency  of  any  but  the  highest  motives. 

"  This  is  a  long  sermon  ;  but  I  feel  as  if  I  were  preaching  to 
an  eager  listener,  who  will  not  throw  it  aw^ay.  I  hope  it  is  to 
the  purpose.  If  not,  tell  me ;  and  tell  me  in  what  point,  of 
any  sort,  I  can  say  a  word  to  help  you.  How  can  I  be  better 
or  more  interestingly  employed  ? 

"  The  management  of  Sunday  is  a  hard  problem.  Who 
knows  what  is  too  much  and  too  little  ?  Perhaps  the  children 
might  be  separated  part  of  the  day.  As  to  making  it  burden- 
some to  them,  it  would  never  do  ;  and  I  do  not  like  that  it 
should  be  the  most  laborious  in  the  week  to  you.  You  ought 
to  have  some  time  for  your  owm  reading  and  improvement." 

In  June,  he  gives  an  account  of  the  ceremonies 
attendant  on  laying  the  corner-stone  of  the  Bunker-Hill 
Monument. 

to  the  same. 

"  June  16,  1825. 
"  Can  you  conceive  the  bustle  and  confusion  we  are  in  ? 
Everybody  and  everything  is  crazy  with  preparation  for  to- 
morrow. The  streets  have  been  thronged,  for  two  days,  with 
people  on  foot  and  in  carriages,  going  to  Bunker-Hill.  To- 
day it  has  been  an  uninterrupted  procession,  a  clogging  crowd. 
The  hill  is  thick  and  black  wuh  visitors.  Charlestown  Bridge, 
at  times,  is  so  thronged  as  to  be  almost  impassable.  Strangers 
from  every-vvhere  fill  the  town.     Every  respectable  tavern  and 


190  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

boarding-house  has  been  more  than  full  for  two  nights ;  and 
last  night,  I  am  told,  some  were  compelled  to  pass  in  the 
streets.  Several  companies  of  soldiers  encamp  on  the  Common 
to-night.  Preparation  is  made,  in  a  splendid  tent,  to  dine 
about  five  thousand.  Tables  have  been  partially  laid  this 
three  days  ;  and  the  rain  last  night  soaked  the  table-cloths,  and 
filled  the  plates  and  dishes.  The  amphitheatre,  on  the  side  of 
Bunker-Hill,  is  calculated  to  seat  nearly  ten  thousand  people, 
two  thousand  seats  being  for  the  ladies.  The  preparations  are 
truly  magnificent,  and  the  public  excitement  is  great  beyond 
description.  I  will  write  you  to-morrow  an  account  of  what  is 
done,  as  I  dare  say  you  will  like  to  hear  from  me,  as  w^ll  as 
from  the  papers. 

"  Saturday,  June  IS.  The  great  day  is  over ;  and,  as  I  am 
sure  the  papers  will  not  tell  the  truth,  or,  at  least,  my  truth, 
about  it,  I  will  relate  my  experience.  The  day  itself  w^as  as 
perfectly  delightful  as  you  ever  have  in  June.  The  procession 
began  to  form  at  ten  o'clock ;  consisted  of  probably  from  eight 
to  ten  thousand  ;  reached  my  meeting-house  at  twenty  minutes 
past  eleven,  and  entered  Charlestown  Square  at  twenty  minutes 
past  tw^elve.  We  formed  a  large  square  around  the  site  of  the 
intended  monument,  and  all  was  perfectly  orderly  till  after  the 
corner-stone  w^as  laid,  of  which  ceremony  I  could  neither  see 
nor  hear  anything. 

"  After  that,  all  w^as  disorder.  Nobody  knew^  what  was  to 
be  done, — even  the  marshals  had  not  been  informed,— and, 
therefore,  instead  of  forming  the  procession  again,  and  going 
quietly  to  the  seats,  the  crowd  made  a  tremendous  and 
tumultuous  rush  down  the  hill,  and  seized  all  the  best  ones,  at 
once.  Then  a  long  time  was  employed  in  clearing  them,  so 
as  to  give  rightful  persons  their  rightful  places.  But,  alas ! 
nobody  knew  where  his  rightful  place  was,  and  some  were 
driven  from  several  before  they  could  find  their  own,  and 
many  found  none  at  all.  In  a  word,  nothing  could  be  worse 
done  than  this  part  of  the  affair.     Before  half  of  the  procession 


JR.  191 

had  come  down  and  were  seated,  old  Mr.  Thaxter  began  his 
prayer ;  but  there  were  a  thousand  people  talking  as  loud  as 
he  ;  a  hymn  was  sung,  but  still  no  quiet.  Webster  rose ;  but 
now  the  rabble  from  behind  burst  through  the  guard,  and  came 
down  through  the  alleys,  and  choked  them  up. 

"  I  left  my  seat  in  despair,  and  went  off.  I  walked  round 
the  outskirts,  and  tried  various  places ;  but  in  vain.  I  caught 
a  sentence  now  and  then ;  but  the  crowd  was  made  up  of  boys 
and  men,  who  cared  nothing  for  the  speech,  but  were  talking 
and  joking  and  walking  about.  So  that,  whereas  it  is  perfectly 
certain,  that  all  on  the  seats,  that  is,  more  than  ten  thousand, 
might  have  heard,  if  they  had  been  properly  and  quietly 
arranged,  it  turned  out  that  not  more  than  a  third  of  that  num- 
ber heard  anything.  Half  of  the  ministers  and  others,  who 
most  cared  to  hear,  were  excluded.  I  made  out  to  press  my 
way  at  last,  so  as  to  hear  the  orator's  conclusion,  of  fifteen 
•minutes.     He  was  about  an  hour  or  more. 

"  The  same  disorder  reigned  at  dinner.  Nobody  knew 
where  he  was  to  go ;  nothing  could  be  seen  or  heard  in  so  great 
a  crowd;  and,  when  it  came  to  the  songs  and  toasts,  guess,  if 
you  can,  the  intolerable  hubbub.  I  soon  grew  tired  and  came 
away ;  got  home,  horribly  fatigued,  and  went  to  bed  with  a 
sick  headache.  No  doubt,  above  one  hundred  thousand  peo- 
ple were  out.  Among  other  matters  worth  mentioning,  there 
was  a  scarcity  of  water  at  dinner.  After  walking  and  sitting 
in  the  sun  and  dust  for  more  than  five  hours,  we  found  no 
pitchers  holding  more  than  a  pint ;  and  when  we  had  replen- 
ished them  twice,  lo !  there  was  no  more  to  be  had.  So  that 
some  men  actually  could  not  eat  because  of  their  thirst." 

The  folloAving  letters,  written  in  July,  refer  to  the 
death,  by  drowning  in  Charles  River,  of  a  brother, 
about  nme  years  old. 


192  ^  LIFE   OF  HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

"  July,  1825. 
"  I  was  in  at  the  examination  of  the  Senior  Class.  Father  was 
called  out ;  and  I  heard  the  distant  whisper,  w^hich  informed 
me  of  some  catastrophe.  I  rushed  out,  also.  For  some  time 
we  could  not  find  who  sent  for  us,  nor  where  w^e  were  to  go ; 
but,  in  the  street,  one  and  another  told  us,  that  it  w^as  Mr. 
Ware's  child,  at  the  old  bath.  You  may  guess  with  what 
feelings  we  hurried  on  together,  not  knowing  whose  child,  and 
I,  of  course,  dreading  it  was  John.  Our  suspense  was  not 
relieved  till  we  had  been  on  the  bank  for  some  minutes.  I 
found  that  John  had  not  undressed.  Who  knows  what  a  day 
may  bring  forth ;  and  who  can  preach  like  Providence  ? " 

"  July  17,  1825. 
"  The  funeral  was  on  Thursday, — very  private,  but  a  few 

persons, — all  in  violent  grief,  as  you  may  suppose.     C 's 

agony  was  particularly  touching.  Poor  Edward  was  so  timid, 
and  so  little  venturesome,  that  it  seems  the  more  affecting  that 
he  should  have  been  taken.  But  it  is  probable  that  he  suffer- 
ed nothing  after  the  first  fright.  As  he  never  lifted  his  head 
above  the  water,  there  is  no  doubt  he  died  at  once.  It  is  a 
great  satisfaction  to  believe,  that  the  horrid  feeling  of  such  ter- 
ror was  not  protracted.  It  was  precisely  twenty  years  that  day 
since  the  death  of  our  mother,  as,  perhaps,  you  observed.  Is 
it  not  remarkable,  that  six  of  us  have  grown  to  maturity,  as 
we  have  ?  And  do  you  not  sometimes  look  round  with  a  sort 
of  apprehension,  as  if  a  breach  must  soon  be  made,  and  as  if 
you  would  ask  where  ?  I  have  felt  so  these  six  years ;  but  I 
am  more  wedded  to  life  than  I  was  then." 


CHAPTER    XI. 

FAILURE  OF  HIS  HEALTH,  AND  A  JOURNEY  FOR  ITS  RESTORATION — 
VISITS  THE  INTERIOR  OF  NEW  YORK  — HIS  ACCOUNT  OF  AN  EXTRA- 
ORDINARY RELIGIOUS  EXCITEMENT  THERE  — LETTERS  — VISIT  TO 
NIAGARA  — RETURNS    W^ITH    IMPROVED    HEALTH. 

1826.     .ST.  32, 

It  is  not  possible  to  make  particular  mention  of  all 
the  multifarious  objects  which  had  engaged  his  atten- 
tion during  the  last  few  years  Ave  have  gone  over.  He 
had  been  constantly  occupied  in  very  active  duties  in 
his  parish,  both  as  a  preacher,  in  and  out  of  season, 
and  as  a  visiter ;  as  a  preacher  on  various  other  occa- 
sions away  from  home;  as  a  writer  in  the  "Christian 
Examiner"  and  '•  Christian  Register,''  and  for  some  time 
as  a  conductor  of  one  or  the  other  of  them ;  in  fine,  as 
an  active  mover  in  all  public  enterprises  for  promoting 
benevolent  and  religious  purposes.  He  had  done  all 
this  with  so  little  regard  to  his  capability  of  physical 
endurance,  that,  in  the  beginning  of  1826,  he  was  com- 
pletely exhausted,  and  his  health  so  much  impaired,  as 
seriously  to  alarm  his  friends.  But,  nevertheless,  as  was 
usually  the  case  with  him,  he  continued  hopeful  and 
cheerful.  In  May,  he  writes  thus  to  his  friends  in  New 
York: 

"  If  I  had  not  bound  myself  to  Boston,  by  positive  engage- 
ments, I  certainly  should  lAve  taken  you  by   surprise  this 
17 


194  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

week,  for  I  am  not  only  on  an  impatient  tiptoe,  but  I  have 
been  rather  troubled  with  pains  and  disturbances  in  my  chest; 
so  that,  after  plastering,  blistering,  and  dieting,  I  was  quite 
beat  out  on  Sunday,  and  longed  for  the  wings  of  a  dove  to  fly 
away.  But  I  am  bound  here  fast  till  the  first  of  June,  and 
then  I  shall  fly  away,  whether  I  have  wings  or  not.  Indeed, 
I  am  better;  notwithstanding  this  cruel  excess  of  heat,  I  am  a 
good  deal  better,  and  shall  soon  cease  to  ail.  I  have  a  multi- 
tude of  matters  and  plans  to  talk  over  with  you.  I  hope  your 
good  New  York  hospitality  will  allow  me  some  hours  of 
undisturbed  quiet  with  you.  One  plan  is  to  fetch  you  home 
with  me.  Another  is,  to  spend  one  week  in  going  up  the 
river,  and  to  the  western  part  of  the  State,  to  attend  the  annual 
Conference  of  the  Christians,  &c.     More  when  I  see  you. 

"  I  expect  to  bring  with  me,  to  New  York,  one  of  my  young 
men,  who  is  of  an  excellent  spirit,  and  who  will  please  you, 
Sampson, — of  not  great  education,  but  one  of  nature's  good 
men.  1  am  very  happy  in  a  little  knot  of  young  coadjutors  in 
my  parish. 

"  I  am  just  now  listening  to  a  delightful  band  playing  at  a 
distance  ;  the  music  stealing  through  the  still  midnight  air, 
windows  open,  a  perfect  calm,  and  a  beautiful  bright  moon, 
half  veiled  by  clouds,  in  mid-heaven.  It  comes  sweetly  along, 
*  like  the  memory  of  joys  that  are  past,  pleasant  and  mournful 
to  the  soul.'  It  is  just  midnight,  and  memory,  as  well  as 
imagination,  grows  busy." 

His  condition  was  far  from  being  so  favorable  as  he 
represents  it  in  this  letter;  but  he  engaged,  with  his 
usual  zeal,  in  the  meetings  of  the  Anniversary  week, 
especially  in  that  of  the  American  Unitarian  Associa- 
tion, up  to  Wednesday,  but  left  the  city,  quite  exhaust- 
ed, on  that  day  for  Northborough,  whence  he  wrote  the 
next  morning  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Gannett. 


JR.  195 

"June  1,  1S26. 
"  My  dear  Gannett, 

"  Every  mile  that  I  rode,  increased  my  regret  at  leaving  the 
doings  of  the  week,  and  confirmed  me  in  the  persuasion  that  I 
had  done  right  in  coming  away ;  and  I  am  sorry  for  nothing 
about  it  so  much,  as  that  I  have  left  upon  your  hands  an 
additional  burden  of  care.  I  hope  you  will  throw  it  off  upon 
some  one  else.  I  intended  to  see  Sewall,  but  my  engage- 
ments on  Tuesday  rendered  it  impossible.  I  think  that  he  will 
take  one  page,  at  least ;  the  first  or  second,  as  you  may  prefer, 
though  not  ready  to  take  the  whole.  I  suppose  some  arrange- 
ment with  him  v/ill  take  place  at  once.  Pray  let  it  be  with  an 
express  stipulation,  that  the  paper ^  shall  not  get  a  character 
of  perpetual  carping  and  fault-finding  with  '  the  Recorder,' 
and  other  Autodoxies.  We  are  always  in  danger  of  it,  and  it 
would  be  a  great  and  offensive  evil. 

"  If  I  had  brought  with  me  my  notes  of  the  speeches,  I  think 
I  could  have  done  something  with  them,  though  they  are  very 
slight.  I  fear  you  cannot  use  them,  or  any  one  else.  Salton- 
stall  will  send  a  sketch  of  his  remarks,  and  perhaps  Judge 
Story  and  the  others  would  do  the  same.  You  can  judge  if 
it  would  be  best  to  ask  them.  I  think,  decidedly,  that  as  full 
an  account  of  the  meeting,  as  possible,  is  desirable.  Every- 
thing was  admirable. 

"  Pray  keep  yourself  well  and  strong.  I  shall  rejoice  to 
hear,  that  you  are  fully  relieved  from  the  drudgery  of  the  pa- 
per, and  spared  to  other  duties.  Meanwhile,  my  strong-hearted 
coadjutor, 

"Yours,  ever, 

"  H.   ^VARE,  Jx." 

He  preached  at  Springfield  on  Sunday,  and,  leaving 
there  on  Monday,  reached  New  York  in  manner  and 
form  as  follows : 

*  "  The  Christian  Register,"  of  which  he  was  then  one  of  the  Editors. 


196  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

"  New  Yokk,  June  7,  1S26. 
"  This  is  to  inform  you,  and  all  concerned,  that  I  had  a  hot 
ride  to  Springfield,  and  got  there  at  seven  o'clock  ;  took  a  bowl 
of  milk  at  the  tavern,  and  a  cup  of  coffee  at  Peabody's  ;  having 
been  smothered  by  heat  all  day.  Left  Springfield  Monday 
morning,  at  five  o'clock ;  rode  ten  miles  to  breakfast ;  calami- 
tously cold, — thick  clothes,  and  great  coat, — yet  no  comfort. 
Reached  Hartford  at  half  past  ten ;  spent  till  eleven  in  seeing 
fishermen  draw  their  nets  and  take  nothing.  Started  for  New 
York ;  fine  passage  ;  so  cold,  obliged  to  keep  below.  '  Any 
library  on  board?'  'No,  Sir.'  'Any  books?'  'No,  Sir.' 
A  pleasant  prospect,  truly.  Not  a  soul  that  I  ever  saw  before  ; 
so  I  sauntered  and  slept,  and  read  a  few  tracts,  and  a  good 
many  old  newspapers,  and  slept  again.  Turned  in  at  seven, 
P.  INT.,  and  slept  -well  till  we  landed  at  New  York,  at  five, 
Tuesday  morning,  and  at  six  went  to  William's.  Have  been 
dull  and  stupid ;  no  life  in  me.  I  think  of  going  to  Niagara, 
or  Lebanon  Springs ;  anywhere,  where  I  shan't  have  to  see 
any  one.  I  have  been  reading  Mrs.  Royall's  '  Travels,'  the 
most  entertaining  book  I  ever  saw ;  full  of  information ;  a 
woman  of  very  keen  and  perspicacious  observation ;  saw 
seventy  steeples  in  Boston;  discovered  that  Ward  Nicholas 
Boylston  gave  to  College  its  whole  library  ;  is  going  to  publish 
two  volumes  more  of  information  equally  accurate.  When 
you  get  into  the  dumps,  read  it." 

to  mr.  gannett. 

"  New  York,  June  12,  1826. 
"  One  of  the  few  things,  which  have  disturbed  me  since  I 
left  home,  has  been,  that  I  quitted  you  without  putting  a  laborer 
in  my  place ;  and  I  fear  that  you  may  have  been  driven  to  in- 
convenience thereby.  I  long  to  hear  how  you  have  managed, 
and  what  arrangements  the  Executive  Committee  has  been 
able  to  make  with  Sewall.  I  hope  that  by  this  time  you  are 
fairly  rid  of  the  drudgery. 


197 

"  I  hope  you  will  give  my  people  a  word  when  you  can ; 
and  if  sometimes  having  an  unengaged  half  day,  you  will 
bestow  it  on  them,  it  will  be  particularly  acceptable  to  them,  as 
well  as  oblige  me.  I  am  desirous  that  you  should  preach  to 
them  an  '  India  '  sermon.  Mr.  Samson  means  to  go  about  the 
subscription,  and  the  matter  must  be  set  before  them  in  proper 
order,  and  with  power.  Will  you  let  him  know  lohen  you  will 
do  this,  if  in  your  power  to  do  it  at  all  ? 

"  I  hoped  to  have  given  you  from  here  a  few  paragraphs  for 
the  paper ;  but  it  hurts  me  too  much  to  make  the  effort  to  write. 
If  I  become  able,  as  I  proceed,  you  may  depend  on  hearing. 
I  feel,  for  the  three  last  days,  better  symptoms.  I  start  on 
horse-back  for  Niagara  to-morrow  or  next  day,  and  trust  to 
grow  fat  and  stout  soon." 

In  New  York  he  was  delayed  by  various  causes  ;  he 
remained  there  about  a  fortnight,  bought  a  horse,  and 
on  the  26th  of  June,  began  an  equestrian  journey  to 
Niagara.  The  best  account  of  this  expedition  will  be 
his  own,  contained  in  his  letters  to  various  friends.  Be- 
fore setting  out,  he  had  already  improved  somewhat  in 
strength,  but  still  continued  to  suffer  much  from  many 
of  his  ailments. 

"  Wednesday,  June  28,  10  a.  m. 
{written  with  pencil.) 
"  Dear  W.  and  M.     I  have  ridden  ever  since  five,  without 
finding  a  tavern  ;  so,  being  both  hungry  and  tired,  I  sit  on  a 
rock  beneath  an  umbrageous  shade,  ('  sub  tegmine  fagi,) '  and 
improve  my  time  by  writing.     I  had  a  fine  ride  the  day  I  left 
you.     I  suspect  you  had  a  shower,  but  it  did  not  touch  me.     I 
arrived  at  Kingsbridge,  thirteen  miles,  about  eight ;  got  to  the 
edge  of  Greenburg  next  morning,  seven  miles,  to  breakfast, — 
a  fine,  old,  clean  house,  kept  by  fine,  old,  clean  people,  Van 
Wyck.     I  was  quite  delighted,  though  the  same  room  served 
17=^ 


198  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

for  parlor,  bar-room,  and  bed-room  ;  excellent  milk,  delicious 
bread  and  butter.  By  eleven,  I  got  to  Tarrytown,  seven 
miles  ;  and,  being  very  tired,  stayed  till  to-day.  I  might  have 
breakfasted  at  Sing  Sing ;  but,  as  I  past  there  a  little  after  six, 
I  preferred  to  go  on.  I  am  now  in  the  Highlands ;  but  the 
Highlands  have  no  taverns,  and  I  hear  and  see  nobody.  This 
morning's  ride  has  been  most  beautiful.  The  river  is  in  view 
for  miles,  crowded  with  vessels,  and  many  romantic  spots  on 
shore.  I  enjoy  myself  and  my  horse,  who  does  well.  Riding 
cheers  me.  I  feel  no  better  than  when  in  New  York ;  but,  as 
I  was  dull  there,  being  cheered  is  something.  If  I  ever  get 
to  a  tavern,  I  will  write  some  more. 

"  Said  tavern  I  found  at  half  past  ten ;  one  room  on  a  floor ; 
folks  washing;  no  hay,  but  exceeding  good  bread.  Shall 
have  to  decamp  soon.  On  my  way,  met  two  little  Highland 
lasses,  of  whom  I  bought  six  cents'  worth  of  raspberries.  On 
asking,  '  How  far  to  a  tavern  ?'  they  said,  '  they  had  n't  seen 
none  go  by  to-day.'  I  had  other  conversations,  equally  pleas- 
ant and  peculiar.  For  some  miles  I  have  lost  sight  of  the 
river,  and  the  road  is  very  little  frequented,  and  human  habi- 
tations are  scarce.  About  a  mile  from  this  little  inn  I  fell  in 
with  Peekskill,  passed  through,  and  at  four,  p.  m.,  am  at  the 
PhoBnix  Hotel !  no  other  house  within  miles.  Said  Hotel  one 
story  high,  not  old  and  neat.  Here  I  shall  bivouac,  fearing  I 
may  go  farther  and  fare  worse.  Thirty  miles  to-day,  and  not 
a  little  tired." 

"  Redhook,  Herimann's  Inn, 

"  Friday,  June  30,  half  past  six,  p.  m. 
"  Dear  W.  &  M.  My  mind  misgives  me  that  you  did  not 
get  the  letter  which  I  sent  from  the  Pheonix  hotel.  I  left  it 
for  the  stage-driver  to  put  into  the  office  at  Peekskill,  in  order 
that  you  might  surely  have  it  by  last  night ;  but,  as  I  forgot 
to  leave  a  douceur,  I  take  it  for  granted  he  forgot  it.  I  there- 
fore hurry  to  write  again,  to  tell  you  I  get  on  bravely.     This 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  199 

makes  a  hundred  and  seven  miles,  as  near  as  I  can  find,  for 
no  two  persons  agree  touching  any  distances.  I  came  from 
Pokepsy  to-day,  either  twenty-six  or  thirty  miles,  nobody 
knows  which.  Rhinebeck  is  very  pleasant.  Poughkeepsie  is 
very  disagreeable.  Redhook  pleasant.  This  tavern  is  low, 
small,  but  tolerably  comfortable  ;  and,  what  is  '  a  sight  for  sair 
e'en,'  possesses  a  handsome  landlady,  of  genuine  New  Eng- 
land stamp,  the  first  specimen  I  have  met  with  ;  for,  in  truth, 
the  greater  part  of  the  taverns  are  misery  of  the  first  water. 
Horse  does  exceedingly  well.  I  reach  Catskill  to-morrow,  and 
shall  probably  spend  Sunday  and  part  of  Monday  there.  But 
where  shall  I  keep  '  Independence '  ?  I  must  make  an  oration 
to  the  woods.^  Doubtless  they  will  murmur  applause.  I 
wish  I  had  been  weighed  at.  New  York ;  I  have  been  very 
thin,  but  prognosticate  a  good  fattening.  If  it  were  not  for 
occasional  soreness  and  pain,  I  should  think  I  was  fit  to  go 
home  now." 

"  Canal  Boat,  Connecticut,  July  5,  p.  m. 
"  I  remain  just  about  so,  except  that  for  two  days  I  have 
again  had  a  little  more  uneasiness  in  my  chest ;  no  great,  how- 
ever. I  took  a  boat  on  reaching  the  canol  this  morning,  and 
shall  arrive  at  Utica  to-morrow  noon.  My  last  week's  tour 
has  been  quite  pleasant.  I  have  seen  the  glorious  Catskill, 
and  written  myself  an  ass  in  the  album.  I  then  crossed  a  very 
beautiful  country,  though  rather  by  cross-roads,  and  got  to  the 
canal  at  six  this  morning.  Thus  far  we  have  followed  the 
banks  of  the  Mohawk,  which  are  pleasant  and  sometimes  beau- 
tiful. The  number  of  boats  astonishes  me ;  we  certainly  pass 
one  at  least  every  ten  minutes.     It  is  dull  work  on  the  whole. 

*  This  allusion  is  explained  by  the  circumstance,  that  he  had  been  selected 
by  the  city  authorities  of  Boston  to  deliver  an  oration  before  them,  on  the 
semi-centennial  celebration  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  The  state  of 
his  health  had  made  it  necessary,  after  having  once  made  an  engagement  to 
accept  the  aopointment,  to  ask  to  be  relieved  from  fulfilling  it. 


200  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WAREj    JR. 

No  beauty  of  country  can  keep  away  ennui,  in  this  indolent 
way  of  moving  without  motion,  a  whole  clay,  at  three  miles  an 
hour." 

The  interior  of  New  York  was  at  this  time  the  seat 
of  an  extraordinary  religious  excitement ;  and,  on  arri- 
ving at  Utica,  July  6th,  and  proceeding  thence  to  Tren- 
ton, he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  it.  In  a  letter  to 
Mr.  Gannett,  he  gives  some  accomit  of  the  state  of  feel- 
ing, especially  with  regard  to  the  Unitarian  Society  at 
Trenton.  This  letter  states  things  as  they  were  seen 
and  heard,  under  the  immediate  influence  of  the  strong 
passions  and  prejudices  of  the  period.  That  they  were 
much  colored  and  distorted;  by  the  medium  through 
which  they  reached  my  brother's  mind,  no  one,  looking 
back  at  this  distance  of  time,  will  probably  doubt. 
Some  of  the  statements,  particularly  that  which  ascribes 
to  Mr.  Finney  the  assummg  of  a  blasphemous  title, 
were  called  in  question  at  the  time,  and  shown  to  be 
unsupported  by  any  sufficient  evidence.  The  general 
picture  was  found  to  be  true ;  there  was  little  exaggera- 
tion in  the  general  impression  given  of  the  feverish  and 
almost  delirious  state  of  the  public  mind :  but  some  of 
the  details  had  become  magnified. 

The  expediency  of  bringing  up,  at  this  distant  day, 
accounts  like  these,  of  so  painful  a  character,  may  be 
thought  doubtful.  The  religious  body,  concerned  in 
movements  of  this  kind,  may  regard  themselves  as  mis- 
represented by  them ;  to  a  certain  extent  they  probably 
are  so.  But  such  events  are  a  part  of  the  history  of 
the  time ;  the  misconceptions  and  misrepresentations  of 
one  party  by  another,  are  a  part,  also,  of  this  history; 
and  the  history  of  the  times  is  the  only  true  back-ground 
of  the  picture  of  the  individual.     There  is  another  rea- 


LIFE   OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  201 

son  for  perpetuating  these  narratives,  inserted  as  they 
are  intended  to  be,  not  as  certainly  true  in  all  their 
points,  but  as  believed  to  be  true  at  the  time.  The 
party  referred  to  may  feel  that  they  are  unfairly  repre- 
sented, and  that  false  views  are  given  of  their  motives, 
character,  and  intentions.  Now,  those  impressions 
were  made  upon  the  mind  of  a  man  unusually  kind  in 
his  feelings  towards  his  opponents,  disposed  to  a  chari- 
table construction,  not  inclined  to  a  harsh  estimate  of 
other  sects :  yet  they  feel  them  to  be  erroneous.  If  they 
are  so,  should  not  the  fact  be  a  lesson  to  both  of  the 
parties?  If,  on  the  one  hand,  the  extravagances  of  a 
few  fanatical  individuals,  and  the  excesses  of  an  excited 
community,  at  a  particular  time,  are  painted  in  some- 
what too  high  colors,  and  regarded  too  much  as  the 
legitimate  results  of  the  opinions  and  policy  of  a  par- 
ticular sect, — may  it  not  happen,  on  the  otlier  hand, 
that  the  apathy  of  the  opposing  party,  their  disapproval 
of  the  whole  class  of  means  of  which  these  are  a  part, 
the  cold  regard  in  which  they  hold  the  whole  matter  of 
revivals,  may  be  also  exaggerated,  and  their  motives  be 
misconceived,  and  not  be  so  attributable  to  religious 
indifference  as  has  been  supposed  ? 

TO   MR.    GANNETT. 

"  Utica,  July  9,  1S26. 
"  The  gTeat  excitement  which  has  existed  for  some  time  in 
this  town  and  neighborhood,  you  have  probably  heard  of.  It 
has  been  attended  with  occurrences  of  outrageous  and  vulgar 
fanaticism,  such  as,  I  hope  and  believe,  have  never  been  par- 
alleled ;  and,  in  its  whole  tone,  has  had  a  tendency  to  render 
religion  disgusting  to  sober  observers.  To  frighten  by  any 
means,  the  most  unwarrantable,  has  been  the  great  effort ;  and 


202  LIFE    OF   HEN'RY   WARE,    JR. 

the  indecorums,  the  breaches  of  good  manners,  the  profanity 
and  blasphemy,  which  have  been  committed,  are  almost  incred- 
ible. The  great  leader  is  either  a  crazy  man  or  an  impostor. 
He  calls  himself '  the  brigadier-general  of  Jesus  Christ ;'  which 
is  a  characteristic  specimen  of  his  manner.  In  his  manner  he 
is  copied  by  all  the  subalterns,  most  of  whom  are  the  young 
men  from  Auburn ;  who  are  let  loose,  during  vacation,  on  the 
neighboring  country,  being  boarded,  it  is  said,  at  the  expense 
of  the  institution  ;  and  who  go  round  in  bands,  assailing  pas- 
sengers in  the  street,  and  prying  into  families,  and,  in  the  most 
impudent  way,  catechizing  and  threatening.  The  prayer  for 
Colonel  Mappa  you  have  seen,  I  dare  say;  it  ought  to  be  pub- 
lished in  the  '  Register';  ought  it  not  ?  It  is  a  specimen  of 
the  style  in  which  things  are  done. 

"  Let  me  give  you  a  few  other  specimens.  It  is  common 
for  these  young  men  to  ask  a  passenger  on  the  road,  *  Where 
are  you  going?'  He  answers;  and  they  say,  'No,  you  are 
not.'  'No!  what  do  you  mean?'  'Why,  I  say,  you  are 
going  to  hell ! '  This  has  become  a  by-word  among  the  chil- 
dren, a  lesson  of  profaneness  to  them,  who  are  heard  rehears- 
ing the  question  and  answer  perpetually.  Some  one  asked 
the  great  preacher  (Finney)  to  lend  him  his  horse.  '  I  have 
not  any  horse,'  said  he.  '  No  horse  ?  Is  not  that  your  horse 
in  the  stable?'  'No,  that's  Jesus  Christ's  horse;  if  you  are 
going  on  an  errand  for  him,  you  can  have  him.'  One  of  the 
preachers  gave  out  that  he  could  get  his  horse  removed  to  any 
place  he  pleased,  by  prayer ;  could  pray  him  out  of  one  pas- 
ture into  another.  When  displeased,  the  common  phrase  is, 
'  I  will  go  and  tell  God  of  you,'  &;c.  &c.  You  would  hardly 
credit  some  of  the  stories.  It  is  proposed  to  write  a  history  of 
the  thing  and  publish  it.  Finney  has  at  last  be^n  obliged  to 
leave  Utica,  where  he  was  for  a  long  time ;  for  the  better  part 
of  the  people  became  so  disgusted,  that  they  began  to  stir 
themselves,  and  then,  perhaps,  a  Unitarian  Society  might 
have  been  collected  ;  but  things  are  hardly  ripe  yet. 


203 

"  In  this  spirit  and  form  a  violent  assault  was  made  upon 
Trenton,  and  it  was  given  out  that  the  society  should  be 
crushed.  '  Only  pray,  only  keep  praying,  and  we  shall  soon 
root  them  out,'  said  the  brigadier-general.  And  they  did  pray, 
abusively,  about  persons,  against  persons,  at  all  times,  and  in 
all  places.  Their  emissaries  were  prowling  about,  sometimes 
eight,  and  even  more,  at  a  time.  They  left  not  a  stone  un- 
turned. But,  by  the  power  of  the  truth  and  the  blessing  of 
God,  the  Society  is  firmer,  more  earnest,  and  more  prosperous. 
It  has  gained  accessions  in  number  and  in  zeal.  The  minister 
has  worked  hard,  perse veringly  and  successfully.  Under  such 
circumstances  I  could  not  resist  the  request  to  preach ;  and,  as 
I  am  so  much  improved  in  strength,  shall  probably  do  it  again. 
If  a  people  ever  deserved  countenance,  it  is  this  people.  For 
twenty  years  they  have  held  up  the  banner  through  the  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day,  amid  many  discouragements  and  neglects  ; 
yet  have  they  persevered  with  a  spirit  which  does  them  great 
credit.  They  are  much  more  numerous  than  I  supposed. 
They  are  most  intelligent,  respectable  and  devoted,  and,  with 
their  minister,  should  be  held  in  constant  remembrance  by 
their  more  favored  brethren." 

TO    THE    REV.    ISAAC    B.    PEIRCE    OF    TRENTON,   N.  Y. 

"  Alexander,  Sunday  Morning,  July  23,  1826. 
"I  passed  Wednesday  night  at  Auburn.  I  intended  to 
visit  the  Seminary  in  the  evening,  for  the  purpose  of  acquaint- 
ing myself  with  its  state,  discipline,  course  of  instruction,  &c. 
But  all  the  young  men  were  at  a  prayer-meeting,  and  I  went 
there  too ;  and  there  arose  to  speak  a  man  whom  I  soon  set- 
tled in  my  thought  to  be  the  notorious  Finney.  He  gave  direc- 
tions for  the  manner  of  praying,  not  so  as  to  be  accepted,  but 
so  as  to  produce  most  effect  on  the  sinners  present.  Their 
pra^rers,  he  said,  should  be  short,  and  they  should  particularly 
avoid  all  rehearsal  of  the  divine  attributes,  in  the  introduction, 
as  this  tended  greatly  to  let  down  the  tone  of  feeling.     A 


204  ^  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

Strange  assertion !  Some  of  his  directions  were  exceedingly- 
good.  These  young  men  prayed  ;  their  only  object  was  to 
frighten.  I  do  not  believe  they  thought  of  anything  else. 
And  such  unscriptural  prayers  I  never  heard.  Violent,  loud, 
full  of  gesture,  full  of  denunciation,  one  half  occupied  in 
threatening  sinners  with  hell,  and  the  other  half  with  hurling 
anathemas  at  those  elders  and  other  professors  who  do  not  join 
this  work  of  revival. 

"  I  have  a  poor  memory  for  individual  expressions,  or  I 
could  repeat  to  you  some  most  shocking  language.  One  or 
two  instances  I  remember ; — '  Thou  knowest,  Lord,  that  we 
would  not  thus  plead  with  thee,  if  thy  glory  were  not  at  stake; 
but  thy  glory  is  at  stake  ;  thou  knowest,  O  God,  that  thy  glory 
is  at  stake.'  Sometimes  they  were  strangely  familiar,  both  in 
words  and  in  tone  of  voice.  '  Why,  Lord,  thou  hast  but  just 
come  here;  don't  go  away  again  yet.'  But,  on  the  whole,  it 
is  not  profitable  to  repeat  such  things.  He  made  a  long  speech 
afterwards  in  the  same  strain ;  and  I  can  now  believe  any 
stories  I  have  heard  of  him.  He  has  talents,  unquestionable 
talents,  but  no  heart.  He  feels  no  more  than  a  mill-stone. 
There  is  proof,  which  no  one  who  sees  him  can  resist,  that  he 
is  acting  a  cold,  calculating  part.  This  is  a  harsh  charge,  but 
I  cannot  avoid  it.  His  tones  of  voice,  his  violent,  coarse, 
unfeeling  utterance,  his  affected  groanings,  his  ^mthing  of 
his  body  as  if  in  agony,  all  testify  that  he  is  a  hypocrite,  and 
yet  I  try  not  to  be  uncharitable. 

"  Mr.  Lansing,  minister  of  Auburn,  spoke  and  prayed  in 
the  same  fashion,  but  with  far  more  propriety  of  speech. 
But,  in  the  whole  evening,  there  was  not  one  word,  or  look, 
or  accent  of  tenderness,  or  one  that  indicated  the  slightest 
compassion  for  those  poor  wretches  whom  they  were  striving 
to  deliver  from  damnation.  This  amazed  me.  If  men  are 
sincere,  how  can  they  help  feeling  and  expressing  pity  above 
all  things  ?  What  can  we  think  of  those  who  riot  in  damna- 
tion and  torments,  and  seem  to  take  delight  in  wrath  and  ven- 


JR.  205 

geance  ?  I  inferred  from  their  language,  that  there  is  a  strong 
opposition  to  their  doings  among  the  religious  people  of  Au- 
burn." 

to  his  brother  john. 

"July  10. 

"  I  am  now  in  Rome ;  not  the  Eternal  City,  mistress  of  the 
world,  which,  if  you  recollect,  was  situated  in  Italy ;  but  Rome 
in  that  great  State,  which  appropriates  to  itself  great  names, 
if  not  great  things;  and,  but  for  a  quarrel,  it  might  have  been, 
instead  of  Utica,  the  great  city  of  the  West.  The  authorities 
of  the  place  thought  the  canal  must  go  through  the  town,  and 
therefore  they  stood  out  for  exorbitant  prices ;  and  the  State, 
rather  than  pay  them,  carried  the  canal  through  a  hideous 
swamp,  which  everybody  thought  impassable.  Now  the  Ro- 
mans mourn,  and  all  their  great  prospects  are  transferred  to 
Utica.     A  pretty  picture  of  wars. 

"  Your  letter  I  got  yesterday,  and  was  rejoiced  to  see  it. 
The  parish  have  done  a  kind  and  handsome  thing,  and  I  am 
very  grateful  to  them.  [Referring  to  a  vote  to  supply  the 
pulpit  during  his  absence  without  expense  to  him.]  I  continue 
to  improve,  as  you  may  suppose.  This  horseback  and  change 
are  wonderful.  I  am  not  all  the  time  free  from  pains  and 
some  other  troubles,  but  I  make  out  to  feel  that  I  am  gaining. 
I  have  hardly  ridden  more  than  tv/enty-three  miles  any  day. 
I  get  excessively  fatigued,  and  am  obliged  to  lie  down  three  or 
four  hours  at  mid-day. 

"  Utica  is  beautifully  situated,  and  beautifully  built,  and 
gives  uncommon  pleasure  to  the  eye  of  a  visitor.  The  pass- 
ing of  the  canal  through  the  centre  is  a  circumstance  that 
imparts  a  romantic  charm,  especially  in  the  evening,  when  the 
multitude  of  boats,  with  their  lights  reflected  from  the  water, 
gliding  among  the  houses,  the  bridges  thronged  with  persons 
looking  on,  the  streets  all  alive  with  passengers,  and  the  boat- 
18 


206  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

bugles  filling  the  air  with  music,  constitute  a  sort  of  enchant- 
ment to  one  who  is  there  for  the  first  time.  The  weather  for 
three  days  has  been  almost  insupportably  hot;  I  should  think 
98°.  I  could  not  ride  yesterday  after  nine  in  the  morning, 
and  think  I  shall  he  unable  to  ride  to-day." 

He  had  been  earnestly  advised  on  this  journey  to 
avoid  all  professional  exertions,  and,  fully  intending  it, 
had  gone  wholly  unprepared,  dressed  in  a  light-gray 
thin  frock  and  pantaloons,  altogether  in  as  unclerical  a 
garb  as  could  well  be  imagined.  He  felt,  however,  that 
the  call  at  Trenton  was  so  strong,  as  to  justify  the  ex- 
periment of  preaching  under  almost  any  circumstances. 

to  his  sister  harriet. 

"  Trenton,  Sunday  Evening,  July  16. 

"  I  left  all  my  sermons  at  New  York,  and  took  not  a  black 
rag  of  clothing  with  me,  in  order  that  I  might  not  preach  ; 
and  yet  here  have  I  stayed  nine  days  on  'purpose  to  preach,  in 
borrowed  clothes  too  !  a  bottle-green  coat ! !  Well, — there  's 
something  new  under  the  sun.  I  found  the  Society  here  just 
so  situated,  that  I  must  have  been  less  than  a  man  to  have 
refused  to  preach ;  and,  finding  that  I  did  good,  and  excited 
attention,  and  strengthened  weakness,  I  could  not  help  staying 
a  second  Sunday.  And  I  am  so  happy  as  to  have  got  through 
perfectly  without  harm,  I  believe.  I  preached  extemporane- 
ously;— people  from  all  the  neighboring  towns.  There  never 
were  so  many  here  together  before,  and  the  impulse  given  by 
a  stranger  from  Boston  is  a  great  good  to  them.  I  have  found 
excellent  people  here,  and  have  highly  enjoyed  myself.  I  am 
greatly  better  than  I  was,  and,  having  had  this  delay,  conclude 
not  to  go  to  Quebec,  but  return  directly  from  Niagara. 

"  My  stay  at  Trenton  has  enabled  me  to  learn  something  of 
the  state  of  the  country.     It  is  full  of  Unitarians.     Every 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,  JR.  207 

village  has  them,  and  the  time  is  coming,  when  societies  will 
exist  all  around  here.  Trenton  Falls  are  the  most  beautiful 
and  splendid  object  of  the  kind  which  I  have  seen.  Imagine  a 
succession  of  hills,  one  above  the  other,  of  solid  rock.  Imagine 
an  earthquake  to  cause  a  deep  rent  of  two  hundred  feet  in 
their  centre,  laying  open  a  vast  chasm,  rocky  and  precipitous, 
its  sides  perpendicular,  for  two  miles  in  extent.  Then  sup- 
pose a  stream  of  water  to  rush  through  this  chasm,  a  perpetual 
descent  over  rocks  the  whole  distance,  and  sometimes  leaping 
down  ledges  of  ten,  twenty,  and  thirty  feet,  so  shattered  as  to 
be  perfectly  white,  and  the  rocks  so  disposed  as  sometimes  to 
throw  one  sheet  directly  against  another.  If  you  understand 
me,  you  have  Trenton  Falls.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  variety 
of  the  scenery.  The  sides  are  all  covered  with  green  woods, 
and  sometimes,  in  a  narrow  pass,  where  each  side  overhangs, 
there  is  a  perfect  smoothness  of  the  waters,  which  are  rendered 
by  the  situation  black  as  ink.  All  travellers  visit  them  now, 
— thousands ;  yet,  four  years  ago,  they  were  not  known 
beyond  the  village.  Mr.  Sherman,  formerly  minister,  once 
expelled  from  Connecticut  for  heresy,  first  made  them  known, 
and  keeps  a  house  for  the  entertainment  of  visitors, — the  best 
house  I  have  seen.  He  is  a  genius  and  a  scholar.  He  has 
just  written  a  new  system  of  English  Grammar,  wholly  origi- 
nal and  highly  ingenious." 

to  the  same. 

"  Bloomfield,  July  21. 
"  Remember,  that  in  your  person,  or  (to  speali  more  exactly) 
in  your  appellation,  are  comprised  all  the  folk  at  Northbo- 
rough  ;  and  therefore  this  and  other  epistles  are  to  them  alike. 
With  this  proviso  to  quiet  your  and  their  jealousy,  I  proceed 
to  say,  that  during  this  shower,  I  sit  in  the  wide  entry  of  this 
inn,  master  and  mistress  gone  away,  four  children  playing, 
and  one  crying,  with  a  chequer-board  in  my  lap  and  the  ink- 


208  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

Stand  on  the  chair,  and  send  home  my  afiectionate  thoughts  to 
friends  and  children,  even  as  the  sweet  swan  of  Mantua  saith  : 

'  Dulces  repasius  reminiscitur  Argos  : ' 

In  which  line,  by  the  way,  I  fancy  there  is  a  false  quantity. 
But  there  is  truth  enough  to  make  up  for  it ;  for,  being  inter- 
preted, it  signifies,  '  Having  dined  on  sow^  milk,  he  bethinks 
himself  of  his  siveet  friends.'  I  have  not  Dryden  by  me,  or  I 
would  give  you  a  more  poetic  version.  At  any  rate,  however, 
I  hope  it  won't  rain  all  the  afternoon,  for  I  had  calculated  it 
should  read  thus :  '  After  dinner  he  thought  of  going  to  see 
Elder  Millard,'  who  lives  only  five  miles  off.  But,  instead  of 
talking  with  him,  I  '11  while  away  an  hour  at  Northborough. 
It 's  so  seldom  that  I  feel  any  willingness  to  write,  that  it 's 
well  to  work  while  the  fit  is  on  me,  or  (seeing  it  rains)  to  make 
hay  while  the  sun  shines. 

"  I  rode  from  Trenton,  fourteen  miles  only,  on  Monday,  and 
stayed  at  Whitesborough.  Tuesday,  I  rode  thirty-six  miles, 
through  Vernon,  Oneida  (the  Indian  village).  Lenox,  Sullivan, 
a  small  manufacturing  town  in  a  glen,  to  Manlius,  an  ugly, 
awkward  village  on  a  steep  hill-side.  AVednesday,  thirty- 
three  miles,  through  Orville,  to  Syracuse,  a  pretty  large  town, 
bran-new,  right  amongst  the  stumps  of  trees,  wH5ch  make  a 
strange  contrast  with  the  fine  houses,  streets,  and  churches. 
The  canal  passes  directly  through,  and  makes  a  good  deal  of 
business.  One  mile  distant  is  Salina,  where  is  an  immense 
salt  spring,  yielding  one  hundred  and  ninety  thousand  gallons 
an  hour.  It  is  pumped  up  by  machinery,  which  is  worked  by 
water  from  the  canal,  and  which  distributes  it  to  a  multitude 
of  salt-works  that  cover  the  face  of  the  land.  Salt  is  the  sta- 
ple article  of  Salina  and  Syracuse.  Then  I  came  to  Camillus, 
Elbridge,  and  Auburn,  sweet  jumble  of  names.  Auburn  dis- 
appointed me.  It  is  large,  pretending,  huddled,  but  not  neat 
or  beautiful.  It  stands  on  the  top  principally  of  one  hill,  and 
in  the  valley  and  on  the  side  of  another.     Here  I  attended  a 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE,    JR.  209 

prayer-meeting,,  whose  horrors  and  blasphemy  have  not  done 
ringing  in  my  ears  yet.  Here  is  the  State  Prison  and  the 
Theological  Seminary ;  or,  as  it  has  been  appropriately  styled, 
the  prison  of  the  mind. 

"  Thursday,  thirty-three  miles,  to  Cayuga,  on  the  Lake  of 
that  name,  which  I  crossed  on  a  shabby  bridge  for  twenty-five 
cents.  The  lake  is  very  tame  and  unpicturesque,  as  are  all 
the  other  lakes  in  this  neighborhood,  though  pretty  large. 
Then  to  Seneca  Falls,  and  Waterloo,  a  pleasant  village  on  the 
Seneca  River,  and  Geneva,  a  large  and  beautiful  town  on  the 
Seneca  Lake.  It  is  laid  out  principally  in  two  fine,  wide 
streets,  overlooking  the  lake,  one  below  the  hill,  and  the  other 
at  its  top ;  very  compact  and  city-like,  and  with  good  taste  and 
good  effect.  I  put  up  for  the  night  eight  miles  this  side,  and 
passed  the  night  in  company  with  a  large  party  of  bed-bugs, 
who  feasted  riotously,  and  disturbed  my  repose.  There  are  a 
great  many  of  this  dissipated  class  in  this  part  of  the  world. 
To-day  I  reached  Canandaigua  at  nine  o'clock.  The  country 
here  is  very  beautiful  and  fertile,  and  laid  out  in  rich,  well- 
cultivated  farms.  It  looks  older  than  any  I  have  seen.  Can- 
andaigua lies  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  on  a  beautiful  slope, 
built  with  great  elegance  and  taste ;  trees,  gardens,  and  front- 
yards  much  after  the  style  of  Worcester,  Springfield,  and 
Northampton,  though  naturally  a  finer  site.  It  is  by  far  the 
handsomest  town  I  have  seen.  Bloomfield  is  a  pleasantly 
situated  town,  standing  on  a  hill  much  after  the  fashion  of 
Lancaster.  It  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  rich  agricultural 
town.  The  whole  land  is  more  fully  peopled  than  I  supposed ; 
inhabitants  are  found  everywhere  on  the  road;  no  desert 
tracts ;  villages  frequent  and  pleasant. 

"  All  the  papers  are  full  of  the  death  of  Adams  and  Jeffer- 
son, as  well  they  may  be.  Was  ever  anything  so  wonderful  ? 
I  preached  on  the  occasion  at  Trenton.  I  drew  from  their 
history,  first,  an  encouragement  to  our  country  ;  secondly,  an 
encouragement  for  Unitarianism." 
18^ 


210  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR. 


to  the  same. 

"  Alexander,  July  23. 
'*  In  this  eminent  village  (of  thirteen  houses)  I  have  passed 
a  quiet  Sunday.  I  arrived  here  at  half-past  six  this  morning, 
having  ridden  from  Batavia,  eight  miles,  and  being  unwilling 
to  ride  further  because  of  the  Sabbath.  But  light  clothes 
won't  disguise  a  parson.  He  can  be  seen  through  them  as 
easil}''  as  if  they  were  only  a  robe  of  light.  You  remember 
Virgil  sweetly  singeth, 

'  Nimiura  ne  crede  colori ;' 

a  most  poetical  verse,  the  sense  and  beauty  of  which  I  now 
for  the  first  time  fully  comprehend.  It  means,  literally  rendered, 
(Dryden's  version  is  more  paraphrastic,)  The  priest  is  a  ninny 
(the  right  reading  being  unquestionably  ^liniiium)  who  trusts 
to  the  color  of  his  clothes  to  keep  him  incog.  And  the  poet 
goes  on  to  say  somewhat  about  blackberries,  which  I  need  not 
quote  ;  but  it  amounts,  if  I  remember,  to  this  :  '  You  might  as 
well  make  a  blackberry  pass  for  a  currant  by  taking  off  its 
black  coat,  as  turn  a  minister  into  a  gentleman  by  the  same 
process.'  Now,  I  have  been  smelt  out  almost  everywhere ; 
people  look  at  me  and  stop  swearing ; 

'  And,  strut  and  swagger  as  I  will, 
I  'm  nothing  but  a  parson  still.' 

"  When  I  was  going  quietly  to  meeting  this  afternoon,  the 
minister  accosted  me  in  the  street,  and  asked  me  to  help  him. 
I  declined,  saying,  '  I  am  a  Unitarian.'  But  the  Presbyterian 
still  wished  it,  and  so  I  went  and  sat  by  him,  or,  as  '  honest 
Will'  more  expressively  phraseth  it, 

'  Accoutred  as  I  was,  I  plunged  in  ;' 

and,  when  he  had  done  his  sermon,  I  rose  and  exhorted  on 
the  same  subject  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  The  people  were 
very  attentive,  some  of  them  shed  tears,  and  none  of  them 


JR.  211 

slept.  Well,  when  1  got  back  to  the  tavern,  I  learned  from 
the  landlady,  who  has  held  a  long  talk  with  me,  that  her  hus- 
band and  another  gentleman  said  they  knew  I  was  a  minister 
when  I  first  arrived ;  but  she  had  told  them  that  she  did  n't 
believe  it.  So  once  more,  as  Virgil  says,  '  Never  trust  to  a 
white  coat  to  rub  the  black  off  a  minister's  back.'  The  minis- 
ter invited  me  to  go  with  him  to  attend  another  meeting  four 
miles  off.  But  I  excused  myself.  Well,  you  say,  what  will 
happen  next  ?  Two  Sundays  in  a  bottle-green  coat,  and  a 
third  in  a  light-gray  ! 

"  After  writing  to  you  on  Friday,  I  passed  the  evening  with 
Dr.  Millard,  author  of '  The  True  Messiah  Exalted,'  whom  I 
found  a  sensible,  interesting  man,  about  thirty-three  years  of 
age.  He  received  me  with  a  most  hearty  welcome,  seeming 
delighted  to  behold  me,  and  tried  to  persuade  me  to  spend 
Sunday  and  preach.  I  longed  to  do  it,  but  had  resolved  to 
deny  myself,  and  so  I  peremptorily  denied  him.  I  believe  I 
was  right ;  but,  indeed,  I  regretted  it,  for  I  shall  never  be  there 
again,  and  it  would  have  been  an  opportunity  to  rivet  one  of 
the  links  of  the  great  Unitarian  chain  of  connexion,  and  a  very 
important  one  too.  If  I  should  be  unable  to  go  home  by  the 
canal,  (my  present  plan,)  and  should  be  obliged  to  ride,  it  is 
not  impossible  that  I  may  give  him  a  Sunday  on  my  return. 

"  Wednesday,  P.  M.  Here  am  I  at  Niagara  Falls  and  in 
Canada.  I  arrived  yesterday  afternoon  at  four  o'clock.  At 
four  miles'  distance  I  first  saw  the  cloud  of  vapor,  which  rises 
from  them,  and  which  may  be  seen  twenty  miles  off.  There 
also  I  first  heard  them,  but  their  thunder  is  by  no  means  so 
loud  as  I  expected.  I  do  not  hear  them  in  my  room  with  door 
and  window  shut,  though  I  am  only  a  quarter  of  a  mile  dis- 
tant. I  have,  yesterday  and  to-day,  travelled  over  the  whole 
ground,  and  seen  them  in  every  possible  position.  I  expected 
to  be  disappointed  in  the  first  view,  and  therefore  was  not. 
After  looking  and  studying  them  for  hours,  and  in  all  points 
of  view,  in  all  directions  of  sunlight,  I  have  got  something  like 


212 

a  sense  of  their  magnitude,  and  a  feeling  of  their  sublimity. 
But  it  is  a  very  difficult  matter  to  persuade  yourself  of,  or 
rather  to  comprehend,  their  vastness.  I  am  not  going  to 
describe  them,  but  will  just  say,  that,  as  in  every  respect  they 
answer  the  highest  expectation,  so  in  some  they  go  beyond  it. 
The  Horse-shoe  Fall  is  far  more  extensive  than  I  supposed ; 
the  quantity  of  spray  is  vastly  greater.  The  Kapids  above  are 
hardly  less  grand  than  the  very  cataracts ;  they  would  be  vis- 
ited as  wonders,  if  there  were  no  cataracts. 

"  The  American  Fall  is  not  so  far  inferior  to  the  British  as 
is  generally  supposed.  It  is  not  so  extensive,  but  has  its  own 
peculiar  beauties ;  and  one  of  the  very  finest  points  of  view  is 
at  its  base,  a  spot  seldom  visited  because  difficult  of  access.  It 
is  entirely  white,  while  the  British  is  a  mixture  of  the  most 
brilliant  green  and  white.  The  rainbow  is  a  very  trifling 
decoration.  These  are  the  main  points  of  remark  from  your 
present  correspondent. 

"  I  shall  be  able,  when  I  see  you,  to  tell  you  fifty  things 
you  never  dreamt  of.  I  wish  you  were  with  me,  and  a  dozen 
others  of  us.  How  sad  to  go  about  looking  at  such  things 
alone.  Not  a  face  here  I  ever  saw,  not  a  voice  that  I  know, 
and  not  a  soul  that  I  can  converse  with." 

to  the  same. 

"  Lake  Ontario, 
"  The  Good  Steamship  Frontenac,  July  30. 
"  After  last  writing  from  the  Falls,  I  matured  m)^  plans  for 
a  homeward  jaunt;  in  doing  which  I  found  it  necessary  to 
skip  Rochester,  so  that,  if  you  have  sent  letters  thither,  all  is, 
I  shall  never  get  them.  I  exchanged  my  poor,  dear  horse  for 
another,  and  on  Friday  went  to  see  the  w^onderful  works  at 
Lockport,  where  the  canal,  for  a  mile  or  two,  is  dug  down  through 
solid  rocks,  and  where  there  are  five  locks  in  connexion,  of 
most  beautiful  construction.     The  village  itself  is  just  budding 


LIFE    OF    HExNRY    WARE,    JR.  213 

amongst  the  burnt  trees  and  broken  stones,  and  consists  of  log" 
houses,  stone  barns,  stone  fences,  and  stone  grog-shops.  But 
there  was  not  a  house  there  five  years  ago,  and  in  five  more  it 
will  be  as  large  a  town  as  Worcester. 

"  I  returned  to  Canada  yesterday  afternoon,  and  came  on 
board  this  boat,  by  which  I  design  to  enter  the  St.  Lawrence 
as  far  as  Ogdensburg,  thence  to  Plattsburg,  thence  across  Lake 
Champlain  to  Burlington,  thence  to  Connecticut  River,  and 
down  the  river  to  Northborough.  I  cannot  go  to  Quebec  with- 
out greater  expense  of  time  and  money  than  I  can  afford.  My 
health  is  good,  but  the  seed  of  my  troubles  is  not  killed,  and 
uneasiness  and  cough  still  worry  m^e  a  little." 

Pursuing  the  route  indicated  in  the  last  letter,  he 
landed  at  Ogdensburg,  and  passing  through  the  inter- 
vening portion  of  the  State  of  New  York,  arrived  on 
Saturday,  August  5th,  at  Port  Kent  on  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  in  improved  health  and  excellent  spirits,  but  with 
his  funds  entirely  exhausted ;  to  which  particulars  the 
following  epistle,  which  he  despatched  to  his  friend, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Ingersoll  at  Burlington,  abundantly  bears 
witness. 

"  Sunburnt  and  tired,  a  disconsolate  traveller 
Rests  from  his  steed  at  the  inn  of  Port  Kent ; 

Neither  a  spendthrift,  a  drunkard,  or  reveller, 
Yet  emptied  his  purse  to  the  very  last  cent. 

Pity  his  case  then,  dear  good  Mr.  Ingersoll ; 

Send  him  two  dollars  (the  sum  is  but  puny),  or 
Sad  lack  of  help  shall  on  Sabbath-day  wring  your  soul 

For  leaving  embargoed 

Yours,  Henry  Ware,  Junior," 

Having  received  the  aid  thus  solicited,  he  spent  the 
Sunday  at  Burlington,  and,  afterward  passing  through 
Vermont  and  New  Hampshire,  reached  home  on  Satur- 


214  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

day  evening,  August  lOtli,  having  occupied  in  the  excur- 
sion fifty-four  days,  ridden  one  thousand  one  hundred 
and  sixty  miles  on  horseback,  and  about  five  hundred 
in  various  conveyances.  He  did  not  seem  at  first  to 
have  made  that  improvement  in  heahh,  which  had  been 
anticipated.  A  few  days  after  his  return  he  wrote  to 
his  brother  in  New  York  : 

"  August  27. 

"  h  is  true,  I  have   improved  less  than   I 

hoped,  but  I  am  still  improving,  and  you  need  not  fear  but  that 
I  shall  take  care  of  myself.  I  have  brought  home  with  me  my 
horse,  and  I  propose  to  be  on  his  back  constantly.  I  plan  to 
remain  in  Boston  but  three  days  in  a  week,  including  Sun- 
days, and  the  other  four  to  be  travelling.  I  have  several 
excursions  in  view,  of  two  to  four  days  each,  which  I  shall 
take.  By  doing  this,  and  studying  none  till  November,  I  hope 
to  do  well." 

In  October  he  speaks  thus  of  his  health  and  other 
matters : 

"  October  18. 
"  As  to  myself,  you  may  depend  on  it  that  your  accounts 
have  deceived  you  as  to  my  health.  I  am  weekly  gaining 
ground ;  everybody  here  says  so.  I  preach  litde  more  than 
half  the  time,  without  great  fatigue  ;  I  ride  on  horseback  every 
day  that  is  not  foul,  from  five  to  twenty  miles  ;  eighteen  miles 
to-day,  twelve  yesterday.  I  have  a  good  appetite,  and  not 
much  oppression  from  food  ;  sleep  pretty  well,  work  very  lit- 
tle, and  I  mean  to  live  thus  active  in  body  and  idle  in  thought 
all  winter.  I  have  given  up  some  of  my  usual  duties,  and  do 
not  mean  to  be  burdened  by  any  extra  cares.  I  say  this  to 
remove  your  anxieties.  Many  of  my  friends  and  parishioners 
have  urged  a  voyage,  but  I  could  not  think  myself  justified  in 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  215 

such  a  step,  while  I  felt  all  the  benefits  of  it  were  gradually- 
coming  to  me  at  home.  I  cannot  perceive  now,  that  I  am  not 
as  well  as  ever ;  and,  to  convince  you  of  it,  I  have  half  a 
mind  to  ride  on  horseback  to  New  York,  and  catch  you 
napping.  I  go  in  this  style  to  Northampton  the  week  after 
next. 

"  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  exactly  what  our  condition  is  here, 

but  in  truth  I  do  not  know  myself.     Dr.  B has  drawn 

away  some  from  our  Societies,  and  I  suspect  that  Orthodoxy 
rather  gains  ground.  Many  of  our  ministers  and  more  of  our 
laymen  think  no  exertions  should  be  made  ;  and  their  sloth 
by  the  side  of  Orthodox  zeal  produces  very  unfavorable 
impressions.  Some  are  awake  and  active,  and  will  prevent 
the  cause  from  sinking,  if  they  do  not  promote  it.  Our  great- 
est evil  is  want  of  ministers  ;  openings  appear  everywhere, 
but  we  cannot  make  use  of  them.  Our  Theological  School  is 
so  poor,  that  it  almost  languishes  ;  three  applicants  went  away 
because  there  was  no  support  for  them.  We  mean  to  create 
scholarships  in  our  several  parishes.  But,  in  accomplishing 
our  various  designs,  we  are  obliged  to  call  so  often  and  for  so 
much  money,  that  I  am  afraid  we  shall  disgust  our  people. 
My  parish  raised  last  year  more  than  five  hundred  dollars  for 
the  Theological  School,  and  have  now  just  raised  four  hun- 
dred and  seventy  dollars  for  India,  besides  about  three  hun- 
dred for  other  purposes  of  less  magnitude.  We  have  appointed 
Mr.  Tuckerman  Pastor  of  the  Poor,  and  his  support  comes 
from  the  ladies  of  our  several  Societies." 

In  the  course  of  the  autumn,  the  good  effects  of  his 
long  absence  continued  to  manifest  themselves,  tie  im- 
proved much,  and  by  winter  was  in  better  health  than 
usual,  and  was  able  through  the  whole  season  to  accom- 
plish more  than  he  had  perhaps  ever  done  before. 

In  November,  he  wrote  thus  to  one  in  the  ministry, 


216  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

who  was  laboring  under  much  despondency  as  to  his 
success  m  his  caUing. 

"  November  13. 

"  It  distresses  me  to  hear  you  speak  so  distrustfully  of  your- 
self. When  I  know  your  good  purposes  and  principles,  and 
your  felicity  of  expression  and  real  power  of  communicating 
thought,  it  grieves  me,  that,  for  want  of  a  litde  of  that  confi- 
dence with  which  so  many  are  overstocked,  you  should  make 
yourself  miserable.  Why  not  acquire  it?  All  my  power  of 
doing  anything,  which  has  led  to  the  reputation  I  have  got, 
(God  knows  how  little  I  deserve  it,  and  there  are  moments 
when  1  think  of  it  with  unspeakable  wonder  and  shame,  for  I 
cannot  take  to  myself  any  credit,)  has  been  owing  to  a  stern 
resolution  and  vow  to  throw  off  my  diffidence,  and  substitute 
for  it  a  certain  nonchalance  and  affected  indifference.  This 
was  hard  to  do,  and  I  suffered  enough ;  but  gradually  I  did  it, 
and  now,  after  ten  years'  practice,  I  am  pretty  bold.  I  had  my 
fears,  my  mortifications,  my  horrors  of  all  kinds ;  but  I  deter- 
mined to  overcome  diem,  or  they  would  have  overcome  me. 

"  I  do  wish  you  would  do  the  same.  You  would  relieve 
yourself  of  a  world  of  trouble  ;  and  it  is  all  you  want,  in  order 
to  have  your  true  worth  rightly  appreciated  by  yourself  and 
others.  You  have  a  perfect  right  to  assume  boldness,  and  to 
feel  as  if  speaking  with  authority.  Who  has  the  right,  if  not 
the  minister  of  Christ?  If  he  feels  as  he  must  do,  on  the 
great  subject  he  treats,  let  him  give  way  to  his  feelings  ;  let 
them  have  full  sweep  ;  let  him  not  repress  them,  subdue  them, 
but  cherish  and  express  them.  There  is  power  enough  in 
them  to  overcome  and  drive  away  the  other  feelings  which 
weigh  down  a  timid  mind.  Give  them  the  mastery,  and  they 
will  subdue  those  other  feelings  of  a  more  selfish  character, 
which  really  ought  not  to  intrude  on  him  who  is  speaking  for 
God,  nor  be  suffered  to  palsy  his  exertions. 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  almost  all  the  eminent  men,  whose 


JR.  217 

lives  we  are  acquainted  with,  passed  through  similar  trials  ; 
and,  by  struggling  with  them,  became  eminent  ?  Do  not  give 
way  to  desponding  feelings.  If  there  be  truth  in  man,  believe 
me  when  I  say,  you  have  no  cause.  Your  despondency  makes 
the  very  evil  you  fear.  Instead  of  dwelling  on  yaur  own  sit- 
uation, and  nursing  the  thoughts  that  dishearten  you,  shake 
them  off,  allow  them  no  entrance ;  give  yourself  to  your  duties 
alone,  and  let  your  interest  in  them  increase  and  increase,  till 
it  absorbs  all  your  feelings,  and  till  it  drives  these  melancholy 
thoughts  away.  Do  not  reject  this  advice,  for  it  is  really 
wholesome,  at  least,  well  meant,  and  the  result  of  experience. 
Make  an  effort,  I  beg  of  you,  and  God  give  you  success." 
19 


CHAPTER    XII. 

FORMATION  OF  A  NEW  SOCIETY  IN  NEW  YORK — SERMON  AT  THE 
DEDICATION  OF  ITS  CHURCH  BY  DR.  CHANNING— MR.  WARE  INVITED 
TO  BECOME  ITS  PASTOR— HE  DECLINES  — HIS  REASONS  — HIS  SECOND 
MARRIAGE  —  PLAN  FOR  A  NEW  THEOLOGICAL  SCHOOL  —  ITS  FAILURE 
—  LECTURES    ON    PALESTINE  — THEIR    OBJECT    AND    SUCCESS. 

1826-28,     JET.  32-34, 

A  NEW  Unitarian  Society  had  been  formed  in  New 
York,  and  their  church  was  dedicated  in  the  latter  part 
of  November  of  this  year.  The  sermon,  on  the  occa- 
sion, was  preached  by  Dr.  Channing.  It  was  one  of 
those  great  efforts  by  which  he  many  times  produced  so 
remarkable  an  impression.  His  reputation,  already  so 
widely  spread,  drew  together  a  very  large  audience,  and 
one  of  a  different  description  from  that  which  usually 
attended  in  a  Unitarian  church.  In  a  letter  to  my 
brother  is  contained  an  account  of  this  performance. 
"Mr.  Channing  preached  with  wonderful  animation 
and  power,  to  an  overflowing  house,  for  an  hour  and  a 
half,  on  the  tendency  of  Unitarianism,  beyond  any 
other  form  of  Christianity,  to  form  characters  of  pure 
and  exalted  piety."  "If  I  am  not  greatly  mistaken, 
it  is  the  most  remarkable   sermon  he   ever  preached. 

B said  he  never  was  so  excited  in  his  life, — that, 

when  he  got  home,  he  began  jumping  over  the  table 
and  chairs  like  one  crazy.  The  audience  was  such  as 
probably  no  other  preacher  in  this  city  ever  had  power 


219 

to  draw.  So,  also,  in  Chamber  Street  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing ;  the  house  was  filled  full,  and  of  the  cream  of  the 
community.  Of  the  dedication  sermon  what  shall  I 
say?  It  was  altogether,  and  beyond  all  comparison, 
the  greatest  oral  communication  I  ever  listened  to. 
The  man  was  full  of  fire,  and  his  body  seemed,  un- 
der some  of  his  tremendous  sentences,  to  expand  out 
into  a  giant.  He  rose  on  his  feet,  thrust  up  botli  arms, 
and  •  screamed,  as  one  may  say,  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
and  his  face,  say  those  who  sav/  it,  was,  if  anything, 
more  meaning  than  his  words." 

In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  after  the  dedication  of 
the  ncAv  church,  my  brother  Henry  received  an  invita- 
tion to  become  its  pastor.  In  their  letter  the  committee 
say:  ''We  beg  leave  to  express  our  deep  conviction, 
that  the  prosperity  of  this  church,  and  of  the  great 
cause  to  which  it  is  devoted,  is  intimately  connected 
with  your  acceptance  of  this  invitation."  Some  inti- 
mations that  a  movement  of  this  kind  was  intended, 
had  already  been  made  to  him,  and,  in  answer  to  them, 
he  had,  some  time  before,  thus  expressed  himself  to  his 
brother  already  settled  in  New  York:  "I  wish  you 
would  think  and  say  nothing  about  my  removal.  It  is 
absolutely  out  of  the  question.  I  have  looked  at  it, 
turned  it  over,  longed  for  it ;  if  there  is  anything  I 
should  prefer  in  this  world  to  anything  else,  it  is  this. 
But  it  is  impossible,  and  I  will  not  deceive  myself  or 
you  by  any  false  hopes.  I  shall  always  come  and  see 
you  when  I  can,  and  be  with  you  as  much  as  I  can ; 
but  to  live  near  you  is  not  to  be  granted  me  this  side 
heaven."  After  so  decided  an  expression  of  his  feelings 
on  this  subject,  the  invitation  came  upon  him  unex- 
pectedly.    There  is  no  doubt,  as  the  above  passage  im- 


220  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

plies,  that,  on  many  accounts,  he  felt  a  strong  inclina- 
tion to  accept  it. 

Not  that  he  had  any  reason  for  dissatisfaction  with 
his  situation  in  Boston.  It  was  everything  which  he 
desired.  His  attachment  to  his  people  and  to  the  com- 
munity was  very  strong.  But  having  taken  a  pecu- 
liar interest  in  the  formation  and  prosperity  of  the 
church  at  New  York,  and  regarding  that  city  as  a 
great  and  most  important  field  for  the  planting  and 
growth  of  liberal  principles,  he  had  an  earnest  hope, 
that,  with  a  coadjutor,  with  whom  he  was  so  closely 
connected,  and  with  whom  he  warmly  sympathized,  he 
could  do  something  to  further  this  object.  There  were 
also  some  strong  feelings  of  a  personal  nature,  both  on 
his  own  and  his  children's  account,  which  would  have 
been  gratified  by  a  residence  there.  The  step  was 
urged  upon  him  very  earnestly  from  many  quarters,  and 
he  gave  it  a  serious  consideration.  The  motives  pre- 
sented had  undoubtedly  much  weight;  he  took  ample 
time  for  deliberation,  and  looked  at  the  matter  from 
every  point  of  view.  Still,  although  it  was  almost 
painful  to  him  to  resist  the  solicitations  of  so  many 
friends,  he  came  at  last  very  decidedly  to  that  conclu- 
sion, to  which  his  natural  impulse  tended  from  the  first. 
The  following  extracts  from  his  letters  exhibit  the  con- 
flict of  his  feelings  on  this  subject. 

TO    HIS    BROTHER    WILLIAM. 

"  December  21,  1S26. 
"  I  find  to-day,  that  my  advice  to  you,  to  get  a  minister  at 
once,  recoils  on  my  own  head.     I  have  before  me  the  com- 
munication of  the  committee,  and  a  private  letter  from  H.  D. 

S .     I  did  not  expect,  after  all  the  explicitness  v;hich  I 

have  used  on  the  subject,  that  it  would  come  to  this.     Do  the 


LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  221 

gentlemen  consider  it  possible  for  me  to  accept  their  offer?  I 
have  given  to  them  no  encouragement,  nor  to  you.  I  have 
been  plain,  unequivocal,  decided,  allowing  always  that  the 
situation  itself  would  not  be  unpleasant,  but  not  wavering  a 
hair's  breadth  from  the  determined  assertion,  that  I  could  not 
take  it.  After  this,  their  letter  embarrasses  me,  and  must  em- 
barrass them, — them,  for  it  will  not  now  be  so  easy  to  make 
another  selection,  or  induce  another  to  come, — me,  because  I 
must  either  answer  them  without  consulting  my  people,  and 
thus  perhaps  not  seem  to  treat  them  with  all  the  respectful 
consideration,  which  is  due  under  such  circumstances,  or  I 
must  consult  my  people,  and  thereby  give  rise  to  suspicions, 
and  hard  thoughts,  and  probably  harsh  words  among  them, — 
at  any  rate,  turn  their  attention  from  the  religious  state  in 
which  they  are  growing,  to  a  matter  which  will  not  favor  their 
religious  growth.  For  it  cannot  be  concealed  from  them,  that 
the  affair  has  been  before  me  some  time,  that  I  have  been  con- 
sulted before  the  church  was  built;— and  then  how  can  I  per- 
suade them  that  I  never  have  in  any  way  sought  or  encouraged 
the  application  ?  I  feel  greatly  embarrassed.,  I  would  have 
been  spared  this  crisis,  and  how  to  get  over  it  in  the  best  way 
I  knov/  not.  If  it  were  possible  to  keep  it  secret,  I  should  get 
on,  but  I  suppose  no  precautions  on  my  part  would  effect  this. 
"  I  cannot  say  to  you  on  this  subject  what  I  have  not  said 
before.  If  I  were  free  to  live  and  work  with  you,  to  be,  with 
m}''  children,  near  you  and  Mary,  to  labor  in  one  of  the  finest 
fields  which  God  has  opened  in  our  country  would  be  of  all 
things  most  pleasant  and  desirable  to  me.  I  could  not  ask,  I 
could  not  fancy,  a  place  more  to  my  liking.  This  I  have  said, 
and  still  say.  But,  unless  my  views  of  duty  are  changed,  I 
cannot,  you  know  I  cannot,  leave  this  place  for  that.  I  will 
not  go  over  all  the  ground ;  but  there  is  one  reason  now 
operating,  more  powerful  than  ever.  The  Orthodox  interest 
/s  full  of  energy,  and  an  assault  is  making  on  us,  which  it 
will  not  be  easy  to  repel.  Every  voice  and  every  arm  is 
19^ 


222  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

needed  here ;  and  I  can  say  to  you,  what  I  could  not  say  else- 
where, that  there  are  needful  measures  to  be  taken  of  essential 
and  vital  importance,  which  I  think  will  not  be  taken  unless  I 
am  here.  Now,  unless  this  state  of  things  changes,  I  cannot 
quit  my  post ;  it  would  be  treason." 

to  the  same. 

"  December  25,  1826. 

"  My  last  was  AM-itten  before  reading  your  long  letter,  (of 
which  I  have  to-day  received  the  codicil  or  postscript.)  I  have 
perused  it  carefully,  and  have  read  it  and  talked  about  it  to 
father  and  John.  I  acknowledge  the  power  of  some  considera- 
tions ; — you  have  stated  them,  as  father  expressed  it,  so  as  to 
make  an  exceedingly  strong  case.  Some  of  them  I  had  not 
seen  in  the  same  light  before.  You  may  rely  on  my  giving 
them  all  fair  weight.  I  am  in  for  it,  and  will  not  decide  till  I 
have  canvassed  the  matter  thoroughly.  If  I  know  my  own 
heart,  I  have  no  desire  but  to  learn  what  is  right  and  do  it; 
not  an  easy  matter,  perhaps,  and  certain  to  be  attended  with 
unpleasant  consequences,  whichever  way  the  balance  may 
turn.  Why  then  did  you  force  me  to  it?  AVhat  you  say  of 
my  parish  being  no  obstacle  surprises  me  ;  the  very  circum- 
stances you  name  render  it  a  chief  obstacle.  I  am  bound  to  it 
in  a  peculiar  way;  and  their  uncommon  kindness  to  me, 
instead  of  rendering  easy,  renders  difficult  a  separation.  If 
my  parish  were  out  of  the  way,  there  would  be  comparatively 
small  room  for  hesitation.  For,  as  you  say,  whatever  I  can 
do  for  the  church  at  large,  I  can  do  as  well  in  New  York  (and 
perhaps  more  of  it)  as  in  Boston.  I  have  a  thousand  daily 
interruptions  here,  which  there  would  not  annoy  me. 

"  Your  cause  will  not  suffer  for  want  of  advocates,  you  may 
rest  assured.  I  have  been  already  compelled  to  hear  counsel 
on  your  side  several  times,  and  able  counsel  too.  One  thing 
I  rejoice  in,  that  the  circumstances  are  of  such  a  character,  as 


JR.  223 

will  prevent,  I  think,  all  possible  imputation  of  bad,  and  wrong, 
and  selfish  motives,  whatever  my  decision  may  be;  I  may 
mistake,  but  I  think  it  impossible.  I  am  sure  none  such  will 
govern  me. 

"  I  write  because  I  cannot  help  thinking  about  it,  not  because 
I  have  anything  worth  saying.  That  I  am  perplexed  and  em- 
barrassed, you  may  easily  suppose.  May  I  only  be  led  right ! 
If  it  were  merely  a  personal  question,  how  easy !  —  but  it  is  a 
question  of  great  complication  and  very  extensive  bearings. 

"  Dec.  26.  I  find,  in  reading  this  over,  that  I  have  probably 
given  you  the  impression  that  everybody  favors  my  removal. 
Not  so.  Some  urge  me  as  strongly  against  it,  as  others  for  it. 
I  stated  what  I  said,  in  order  to  convince  you  that  I  am  deter- 
mined to  deliberate,  and  view  the  whole  matter  thoroughly  on 
every  side ;  and,  although  I  am  still  persuaded  that  I  cannot  go, 
yet,  for  your  sake,  as  well  as  from  the  importance  and  great- 
ness of  the  question,  I  will  look  at  it  impartially.  Depend  upon 
it,  you  have  a  strong  pleader  in  my  heart ;  and,  if  there  were 
no  other  voice,  I  should  be  at  your  side  at  once." 

to  the  same. 

"  January  3,  1827. 
"  After  much  anxiety  and  painful  suspense,  I  have  sent  a 
negative  answer  to  the  call.  I  found  it  was  impossible  to  do 
differently,  though  I  did  my  best  to  persuade  myself  that  I 
might.  And  now  it  is  over,  and  I  will  say  no  more  about  it. 
If  it  had  pleased  Providence  to  throw  us  together,  it  would 
have  been  delightful  indeed;  but  as  it  is,  we  must  be  content 
to  labor  and  live  apart." 

TO   MRS.  WILLIAM   WARE. 

"January  6,  1S27. 
"  You  will  perceive  that  your  two  kind  letters,  with  AVil- 
liam's  last,  came  after  I  had  despatched  my  definitive.     I  can 
therefore  give  no  heed  to  your  arguments,  which,  indeed,  seem 


224  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,  JR. 

to  me  to  be  without  force.  I  could  do  nothing  for  my  health 
in  New  York  by  working  less,  for  I  think  no  one  should  take 
that  post  who  will  not  work  more  ;  and  I  certainly  could  not 
think  myself  justified  in  going  into  it,  without  spending  far 
more  labor  than  I  undergo  here.  So  that,  so  far  as  health  is, 
concerned,  the  Boston  station  would  be  the  more  favorable. 
You  say,  '  my  indination  should  have  a  little  place.'  I  found 
at  last,  that  it  had  a  great  place,  and  that  without  it  the  other 
reasons  for  removal  would  have  weighed  little  indeed.  If  you 
and  William  had  not  been  where  you  are,  I  doubt  if  I  should 
have  hesitated  an  hour." 

His  determination  was  made  up  at  last  very  clearly 
and  decidedly.  It  left  no  doubts  or  misgivings  behind 
it,  and  at  no  subsequent  period  did  he  view  it  with  re- 
gret. He  was  governed  principally,  as  I  think,  by  these 
considerations : 

1.  The  general  opinion  which  he  had  always  main- 
tained, that  ministers  should  be  slow  to  consent  to  a 
removal  from  one  parish  to  another ;  never  for  the  sake 
merely  of  bettering  their  worldly  condition,  nor  without 
a  probability  of  greater  usefulness  in  a  new  situation. 

2.  The  opinion,  notwithstanding  his  view  of  the 
importance  of  the  spread  of  liberal  principles  in  New 
Y^ork,  that  still  the  great  battle  for  them  was  to  be 
fought  in  Boston,  and  in  the  surroimding  community. 
He  believed  that  their  dissemination  abroad  depended 
)n  their  condition  here,  and  that  whoever  was  capable 
•f  doing  great  good  at  any  point  out  of  the  centre,  could 

JO  as  much  or  more  at  the  centre  itself. 

It  was  on  the  same  grounds  that  he  had  more  than 
*nce  opposed  the  removal  of  some  of  the  leading  clergy- 
men from  Boston  and  its  neighborhood,  for  the  doubtful 


JR.  225 

purpose  of  building  up  new  Societies  even  at  important 
points. 

In  June,  1827,  he  was  married  to  Miss  Mary  Lovell 
Pickard,  daugliter  of  Mark  Pickard,  Esq.,  formerly  a 
merchant  of  Boston,  and  gathered  his  children  again 
around  his  own  hearth.  Except  occasional  visits,  he 
had  now  been  separated  from  them  about  three  years, 
during  which  they  had  been  in  the  families  of  his  sisters, 
Mrs.  Allen,  at  Northborough,  and  Mrs.  E.  B.  Hall,  at 
Northampton.  This,  to  one  whose  domestic  affections 
were  very  strong,  had  been  a  great  privation;  and 
nothing  but  incessant  occupation  could  have  rendered 
the  separation  even  tolerable.  This  re-union,  under 
circumstances  peculiarly  favorable  to  his  and  their  wel- 
fare, and  also  to  the  successful  prosecution  of  his  pro- 
fessional duties,  was  one  of  the  happy  events  of  his  life; 
and  the  year  which  followed  it,  whilst  it  was  one  of  the 
most  active,  was  also  to  all  human  appearance  one  of 
the  most  successful  of  his  ministry.  He  had,  in  the 
fullest  manner,  those  testimonies  to  the  efficiency  of  his 
labors,  which  were  to  be  found  in  the  increased  atten- 
tion paid  to  his  preaching,  the  increasing  fulness  of  his' 
congregation,  and  multiplied  proofs  of  the  consideration 
in  which  he  was  held  by  the  community. 

His  marriage  was  followed  by  a  visit  to  the  city  of 
New  York,  where  he  preached  three  times  on  the  17th 
of  June.  From  thence  he  took  a  short  journey  into  the 
interior  of  that  State,  again  visiting  his  friends  at  Tren- 
ton, and  spending  a  Sunday  with  them.  In  the  course 
of  the  year  he  made  other  excursions  in  various  direc- 
tions ;  but,  agreeably  to  what  he  says  in  one  of  his  let- 
ters, ("I  make  few  journeys,  and  none  for  pleasure,'') 
these  were  for  some  purpose,  or  were  made  to  subserve 


226  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

some  purpose,  connected  with  his  great  objects.  In 
August,  he  passed  a  short  time  in  the  Old  Colony,  going 
there  for  the  purpose  of  preaching  the  annual  Academy 
Sermon  at  Sandwich,  on  Thursday,  August  23d,  and, 
on  his  way  there,  having  also  preached  the  day  before 
at  Plymouth.  In  September,  he  gave  the  sermon  at 
the  dedication  of  a  church  in  Saxonville,  Framingham, 
built  by  the  proprietors  of  the  manufacturing  establish- 
ments in  that  place.  In  October,  he  visited  the  State  of 
Maine,  and  delivered  an  address  before  the  Kennebunk 
Unitarian  Association  on,  '•  the  Trinity,"  which  was 
published  afterwards  as  a  tract.  In  November,  he 
went  to  Dover,  N.  H.,  in  order  to  assist  in  the  gathering 
of  a  society  in  that  place,  and  in  the  same  week  he 
preached  before  the  Female  Humane  Society  of  Marble- 
head.  During  the  preceding  summer  he  had  also  been 
'engaged  in  selecting,  preparing,  and  carrying  through 
the  press,  a  volume  of  the  sermons,  and  extracts  from 
the  sermons,  of  his  deceased  friend,  John  E.  Abbot,  a 
labor  in  which  he  took  peculiar  delight.  He  had,  in 
addition  to  all  these  extra-parochial  engagements,  a 
"Bible  class  once  a  week  on  Monday,  and  on  every 
Tuesday  evening  his  house  was  open  to  his  parish,  who 
met  there  in  an  unceremonious  manner  for  religious 
intercourse  and  conversation. 

In  the  course  of  this  season  a  plan  was  suggested,  in 
Avhich  he  became  interested,  for  establishing  a  new 
theological  school,  on  liberal  principles,  somewhere  in 
the  State  of  IS^ew  York.  It  Avas  proposed  that  this 
should  be  effected  by  a  union  with  the  sect  of  "  Chris- 
tians;^ who  were  numerous  in  the  interior  of  New  York 
and  the  Western  States,  and  whose  views  of  Christian 
doctrine  assimilated  very  closely  with  those  of  the  Uni- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  227 

tarians  of  New  England.  This  project  seems  to  have 
been  suggested  by  Mr.  Cloiigh,  one  of  their  prominent 
leaders,  as  appears  from  the  following  letters. 

TO    MR.  ALLEN. 

"July  23,  1S27. 
"  We  have  had  no  little  talk  here  within  a  few  days,  respect- 
ing a  new  theological  school.  Mr.  Clough  has  proposed,  that 
the  Unitarians  and  '  Christians '  should  unite  in  one,  on  the 
Hudson  River.  Many  of  us  think  favorably  of  the  plan,  and 
are  disposed  to  patronize  it,  if  feasible,  but  are  a  little  fearful 
that  it  is  not.  Others  start  strong  objections  to  it  in  toto. 
Something  must  be  done  to  gain  us  an  increase  of  ministers. 
Has  the  matter  ever  been  a  subject  at  your  Association  ?  I 
wish  it  might  be." 

TO    THE    REV.  I.  B.  PIERCE. 

"  August  1,  1S27. 
"  I  am  sorry  to  say  to  you,  that  Mr.  Gannett  will  not  be 
able  to  leave  here  and  visit  you  this  summer.  He  has  how- 
ever been  appointed  delegate  to  the  '  Christian '  Conference  at 
West  Bloomfield,  in  September,  and  I  hope  will  then  be  able 
to  give  you  a  call.  Meantime  I  presume  that  you  have  learned 
from  him  all  that  may  be  necessary  respecting  your  labors  for 
the  Association,  in  which  I  pray  you  may  be  successful  and 
happy.  Labors  of  this  sort  are  most  needful  to  be  done,  and 
nothing  is  more  desirable  than  that  our  preachers  should  be 
so  multiplied,  and  our  means  of  support  so  increased,  as  to 
enable  us  to  send  messengers  throughout  the  land.  But  at 
present  the  most  that  we  can  do  is  little.  You  will  be  glad 
to  know  that  the  Theological  School  at  Cambridge  is  flourish- 
ing, and  that  our  recent  Exhibition  was  the  most  promising 
we  have  ever  had.  If,  instead  of  six  we  had  twenty  such 
young  men,  we  could  speak  a  loud  word  for  the  truth.     A 


228  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

plan  has  been  proposed  for  instituting  a  new  seminary  in  your 
State,  near  the  River,  in  connexion  with  the  'Christian' 
denomination,  for  the  purpose  of  muhiplying  preachers. 
Hardly  any  encouragement  has  been  received  yet ;  but  perhaps, 
after  agitating  the  subject  a  little  longer,  we  may  find  the 
thing  feasible.  Doubtless  many  would  be  excited  to  such  an 
histitution,  who  are  not  within  reach  of  Cambridge  influence  ; 
and,  by  multiplying  means,  we  should  multiply  men.  Mr. 
Clough,  an  elder  of  the  '  Christians,'  a  man  of  a  good  deal  of 
talent  and  influence,  has  taken  an  interest  in  this  subject,  and, 
if  he  succeeds  in  effecting  anj^thing,  will  be  a  great  blessing 
to  his  denomination." 

This  plan,  it  does  not  appear  why,  failed  of  its  accom- 
plishment. It  is  not  likely,  that  two  denominations 
whose  members  differed  so  entirely  from  each  other  in 
their  education,  habits  and  manners,  social  condition 
and  associations,  and  in  their  modes  of  speaking  and 
feeling  on  religious  subjects,  would  ever  have  found  it 
for  their  mutual  interest  to  he  so  closely  connected  as 
this  plan  implied.  However  they  sympathized  in  their 
doctrinal  views  of  Christianity,  there  might  have  been 
found  other  differences  between  them,  which  would  have 
proved  a  more  serious  obstacle  to  the  success  of  the  in- 
stitution than  even  a  diversity  of  creeds.  My  brother's 
earnest  adoption  of  this  plan,  on  its  first  proposal,  grew 
out  of  his  perception,  expressed  in  the  above  extracts, 
of  the  great  want  of  recruits  in  the  ranks  of  the  clergy. 
To  this,  indeed,  he  was  constantly  awake  and  frequent- 
ly alludes.  He  had  this  further  reason ;  the  standard 
of  education,  the  cast  of  manners,  the  modes  of  thinking 
and  living,  and  consequently  of  preaching,  of  those 
educated  in  and  around  Cambridge,  were  such  as,  to  a 
certam  extent,  to  disqualify  them  for  addressing  certain 


LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,   JR.  229 

classes  of  hearers,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  an  im- 
pression favorable  to  liberal  views  of  Christianity.  He 
hoped  that,  in  an  institution  like  this,  ministers  might 
be  trained,  who  would  be  adapted  to  such  hearers. 

His  interest  in  this  plan  probably  induced  him  to 
devise  one  for  supplying  the  pecuniary  wants  of  the 
school  at  Cambridge,  and  increasing  its  means  of  use- 
fulness, which  he  put  in  execution  the  next  v/inter.  In 
the  preceding  year  he  had  delivered,  in  the  course  of 
his  Yestry  services,  a  few  lectures  on  the  Geography 
of  Palestine,  for  the  purpose  of  conveying  to  his  own  pa- 
rishioners more  distinct  views  of  Scripture  facts.  These 
lectures  had  been  received  with  interest,  and  they  had 
well  answered  their  end.  He  proposed  now  to  revise 
and  extend  them,  to  illustrate  them  by  maps  and  draw- 
ings, and  to  deliver  them  to  a  public  audience,  at  a 
moderate  price,  with  the  view  of  appropriatmg  the  pro- 
ceeds to  the  education  of  young  men  for  the  ministry  at 
Cambridge.  His  hope  was  to  raise  in  various  ways 
two  thousand  dollars  for  this  object,  of  which  he  in- 
tended that  the  proceeds  of  this  course  should  form  the 
nucleus. 

These  lectures  were  given  in  an  apartment  in  a  build- 
ing which  had  been  recently  erected  by  the  Boston 
Athenaeum,  for  the  purpose  of  furnishing  convenient 
rooms  for  public  lectures  and  for  the  exhibition  of  paint- 
ings. The  attention  excited  by  the  announcement  of 
this  course  was  far  greater  than  had  been  anticipated. 
The  introductory  lecture,  which  was  given  in  the  last 
week  of  January,  182S,  was  attended  by  a  great  con- 
course ;  and,  the  number  of  persons  who  had  bought 
tickets  being  greater  than  the  room  could  accommodate, 
it  was  judged  expedient  to  repeat  them,  and  they  were 
20 


230  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

accordingly  delivered  to  a  second  audience,  the  two 
courses  going  on  at  the  same  time.  This  unexpected 
success  gave  him  very  great  pleasure,  much  more  I 
think  than  if  the  object  had  been  a  personal  one.  He 
speaks  of  it  thus  in  some  of  his  letters  to  Mr.  Allen  and 
others. 

"January  28. 
"  I  do  not  yet  know  about  the  proceeds  of  my  lectures.  The 
Litroductory  was  crowded  and  encouraging.  I  am  told  from 
every  quarter,  that  I  shall  sell  all  my  tickets,  and,  if  so,  I  shall 
get  about  seven  hundred  dollars.  But  I  have  not  expected, 
and  do  not  expect,  so  much.  If  I  can  get  encouragement  to 
repeat  them,  I  shall  be  rejoiced.  1  hope  to  go  also  to  Salem ; 
and,  if  I  could  do  both,  I  should  furnish  my  two  thousand  dol- 
lars this  year." 

"  February  1. 

"  I  have  been  busy,  oblig'ed  to  preach  at  dedication,  lecture, 
&c.  I  gave  my  first  lecture  last  evening,  and  feel  happy  and 
thankful  for  my  success.  I  sold  all  my  tickets,  and  might 
have  sold  more.  But  the  hall  was  full.  I  have  just  been 
counting  over  my  gains,  and  find  in  my  hands  six  hundred 
and  seventy-three  dollars,  and  about  ten  more  to  be  received 
from  Hilliard.  My  expenses  will  be  not  far  from  fifty ;  so  that 
I  shall  give  six  hundred  and  more  to  the  Institution, — a  very 
good  beginning.  Gentlemen  urge  me  to-day  to  repeat,  and  I 
rather  think  I  shall  do  it.  If,  by  so  doing,  I  could  fill  the  hall, 
I  should  be  right  glad." 

"  My  Palestine  Lectures  have  succeeded  to  my  astonish- 
ment. They  yield  eight  hundred  dollars  for  the  permanent 
scholarship,  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for  the  present 
year,  besides  my  expenses." 

*'  My  second  course  is  about  half  as  full  as  the  first.  I 
think  people  are  interested,  and  the  lectures  are  pleasant  to 
myself,   partly   written    and    partly    extempore.     I   am    only 


JK.  231 

cramped  for  time,  as  twenty  lectures  would  not  be  half  enough, 
and  I  give  only  five.  I  am  going  to  Cambridge  with  them,  and 
probably  to  Salem,  and  have  been  invited  to  Waltham.  I 
shall  thus  get  about  twelve  hundred  dollars  this  year.  How 
to  scrape  together  eight  hundred  dollars  more,  I  do  not  know, 
unless  I  should  go  to  New  York.     How  would  that  do  ? " 

He  was  probably  at  no  period  of  his  life  more  busily 
engaged  in  every  method  of  exertion,  than  during  this 
season.  He  was  literally  crowded  with  occupation  of 
every  kind.  Yet  even  in  the  midst  of  all  this  activity, 
—this  unremitting  devotion  of  himself  to  ordinary  and 
extraordinary  duty,— whilst  he  was  actually  accom- 
plishing so  much,  and  allowing  himself  so  little  time 
for  relaxation  or  recreation  as  to  excite  the  alarm,  and 
call  forth  the  remonstrances  of  his  friends,  he  was  fre- 
quently visited  by  a  strong  feeling  of  self-dissatisfac- 
tion. It  often  seemed  to  him,  as  if  he  did  not  accom- 
plish all  that  he  might,— as  if  he  had  within  his  reach 
means  and  opportunities  of  usefulness,  of  which  he  did 
not  fully  avail  himself  One  might  almost  hesitate  in 
this  case  to  give  credit  to  the  reality  of  such  a  state  of 
mind,  as  that  which  dictated  the  following  letter,  did 
not  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was  written 
afford  the  surest  proof  of  its  sincerity.  It  was  dated 
on  his  birth-day,  during  a  short  visit  to  New  York. 

TO    HIS    WIFE. 

"  New  York,  April  21,  1S2S. 
"  This  is  my  birth-day,  and  I  was  occupied  yesterday,  and 
last  night,  and  this  morning,  in  looking  over  my  life,  and  into 
my  character  and  heart.  I  would  not  dare  to  tell  even  you  all 
that  I  have  seen  to  mortify  and  shame  me ;  and  yet  I  have  not 
been  able  to  feel  as  I  ought ;  and,  what  is  worse,  I  fear  that  I 
am  too  inveterate  to  profit  by  my  knowledge  of  myself,  but 
must  go  on,  one  of  that  miserable  multitude  who  '  see  the 


232  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 


right,  and  yet  the  wrong  pursue.'  I  never  yet  was  satisfied 
with  my  mode  of  life  for  one  year ; — perhaps  I  may  except 
one,  the  first  year  that  I  was  in  Exeter.  But  since  that,  I  have 
been  growing  worse  and  worse.  I  did  think  soberly,  that, 
when  I  was  settled  down  with  you,  I  should  turn  over  a  new 
leaf:  and  I  began ;  but,  by  foolish  degrees,  I  have  got  back  to 
all  my  accustomed  carelessness  and  waste  of  powers,  and  am 
doing  nothing  in  proportion  to  what  I  ought  to  do.  In  my 
standing  and  position,  I  have  a  great  responsibility.  I  know 
what  people,  many  of  them,  think,  and  what  is  the  view  of  the 
public.  I  know  that  I  have  bestowed  on  me  power  to  do  a 
great  deal,  and  a  singular  facility  in  doing  some  things  useful, 
which  lay  me  under  an  obligation  ;  and  I  know  that  I  do 
nothing  in  proportion  to  this  ability  and  facility.  Yet  other 
people  tell  me  I  do  a  great  deal,  and  I  am  stupid  enough  to 
take  their  judgment  instead  of  my  own. 

"  These,  dear  Mary,  are  the  morning  reflections  with  which 
I  open  my  thirty-fifth  year.  Will  the  year  be  an}^  better  for 
them  ?  I  hope  so,  but  I  fear  not ;  for  I  do  not  feel  the  v/eight 
and  solemnity  of  these  considerations,  as  they  ought  to  be  felt. 
M}'  heart  is  hardened,  and  my  conscience  seared ;  and  I  ex- 
pect to  live  and  die  as  I  am,  and  find  that  my  whole  reward  is 
in  this  world.  Dear  Mary,  I  ask  pardon  for  this  strain  ;  but  I 
could  not  help  it.  Would  to  God  I  could  feel  all  the  gratitude 
I  should  for  my  singular  blessings,  and  not  turn  them  into 
curses.  But,  when  I  see  how  I  use  them, — in  a  word,  I  am 
afraid  that,  in  talking  to  others,  and  going  over  the  words  and 
sentiments  of  religion  and  virtue,  I  have  lost  the  power  to 
apply  them." 

But  it  was  the  will  of  Providence,  that  he  should  be 
suddenly  interrupted  in  the  midst  of  these  earnest  and 
zealous  exertions,  by  events  which  not  only  suspended 
his  labors  for  a  long  period,  but  changed  the  aspect  of 
his  whole  future  life. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

SEVERE  ILLNESS  IN  THE  VILLAGE  OF  WARE  — REMOVAL  TO  W^ORCES- 
TER  AND  GRADUAL  RECOVERY  —  ESTABLISHMENT  OF  THE  PROFES- 
SORSHIP OF  PULPIT  ELOQUENCE  AT  CAMBRIDGE  — JOURNEY  ON 
HORSEBACK    THROUGH   VERMONT,    CANADA,    AND    NEV^T    HAMPSHIRE. 

1828.     ^T.  24, 

In  the  last  week  of  the  month  of  May,  1828,  he  had 
been,  as  usual,  much  interested  m  the  various  Anniver- 
sary meetings,  to  which  it  is  devoted.  On  the  last  day 
of  it,  Saturday,  May  31st,  he  left  home  in  order  to  ful- 
fil an  engagement  to  preach  the  next  day  at  Northamp- 
ton. This  journey  was  then  a  very  different  thing  from 
what  it  has  since  become.  It  was  performed  wholly  in 
the  old-fashioned  four-horse  stage-coaches,  which  left 
the  city  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  did  not 
reach  their  destination  till  late  in  the  evening.  It  was 
a  hard  and  wearisome  day's  ride,  even  for  a  strong 
man.  The  day  on  which  my  brother  went  proved 
rainy  and  cold.  He  was  exposed,  and  became  wet, 
and  on  his  arrival  found  himself  already  quite  ill  fromi 
fatigue  and  exposure.  He  passed  a  very  uncomfortable 
night,  suffered  much  from  oppression  at  the  chest  and 
in  breathing,  and  had  a  good  deal  of  cough.  Notwith- 
standing the  continuance  of  these  symptoms,  however, 
ae  went  into  the  pulpit  and  preached  all  day.  In  the 
evening  he  was  no  better ;  he  passed  another  bad  night, 
20* 


234  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

and  in  the  morning  was  obviously  very  sick.  Still  he 
could  not  be  persuaded,  that  he  was  so  ill  as  to  make  it 
necessary  that  he  should  be  confined  at  such  a  distance 
from  home ;  and  accordingly,  after  taking  some  medi- 
cine on  Monday  morning,  without  relief,  he  resolved  to 
make  an  effort  to  reach  home,  and  set  out  in  the  after- 
noon with  this  view. 

He  happened,  most  fortunately,  to  be  accompanied 
by  his  friend,  the  late  Mr.  George  Bond,  who  was  on 
his  return  to  Boston.  They  proceeded  as  far  as  the 
manufacturing  village  in  the  town  of  Ware,  about 
twenty-five  miles  from  Northampton,  where  they  stop- 
ped for  the  night,  intending  to  proceed  in  the  morning. 
This,  however,  proved  utterly  impracticable.  His 
powers  of  endurance  had  been  taxed  to  their  utmost, 
and  he  went  to  bed  completely  exhausted,  and  with 
every  indication  of  an  approaching  fever.  It  was  found, 
on  Tuesday  morning,  that  his  disease  was  too  firmly 
fixed  to  be  kept  at  bay.  He  was  compelled,  though 
reluctantly,  to  yield  to  this  conviction,  and  consented  at 
length  to  have  medical  advice.  The  physician  of  the 
place.  Dr.  Goodrich,  was  called,  who  found  him  labor- 
ing under  severe  inflammation  of  the  lungs.  He  was 
bled,  and  underwent  other  active  treatment,  which, 
with  the  rapid  increase  and  severity  of  his  disease, 
soon  reduced  him  to  a  state  of  extreme  prostration. 

Mr.  Bond  left  him  on  Tuesday  morning,  and  in  the 
evening  brought  the  intelligence  of  his  attack  to  his 
family  in  Boston.  Starting  in  the  next  morning's 
coach,  one  of  his  friends  reached  him  by  Wednesday 
evening.  The  violence  of  his  disease  had  not  abated, 
but  neither  had  it  increased  ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  his 
condition  promised  a  favorable  issue.     He  was  as  com- 


JR.  235 

fortably  situated  as  it  is  possible  for  a  sick  man  to  be 
among  strangers.  He  had  large  and  airy  apartments 
in  an  excellent  hotel.  Great  interest  was  manifested  in 
his  case  by  the  neighborhood,  and  offers  of  assistance 
in  nursing  and  watching  were  made  from  many  quar- 
ters. He  had,  indeed,  all  the  alleviations  of  which  such 
a  sickness,  under  such  circumstances,  is  capable ;  and, 
in  addition  to  the  attendance  of  his  regular  physician, 
had  the  advantage  of  the  visits  of  his  friend  and  class- 
mate. Dr.  Homans,  then  a  practitioner  in  the  neighbor- 
ing town  of  Brooklield. 

His  case  continued  without  any  material  improve- 
ment for  about  ten  days.  During  this  period,  he 
suffered  chiefly  from  fever,  restlessness,  and  a  very 
hard  and  harassing  cough.  He  had  the  bloody  expec- 
toration usual  in  his  disease,  but  in  addition  to  it,  on 
the  fifth  or  sixth  day,  a  pretty  copious  hemorrhage  from 
the  lungs,  more  so  than  is  usual  in  similar  cases.  This, 
however,  did  not  continue,  and  did  not  recur.  The 
reduction  of  strength  was  much  greater  than  is  common 
in  such  attacks  in  persons  of  ordinary  health,  and  he 
was  exceedingly  emaciated.  Indeed,  the  entire  and 
long-continued  prostration  resulting  from  this  illness, 
which  was  certainly  not  one  of  extraordinary  violence 
or  duration,  can  only  be  attributed  to  that  gradual  ex- 
haustion of  the  powers  of  his  system,  which  had  been 
produced  by  his  unsparing  application  to  his  various 
labors,  and  which  had  rendered  him  totally  unable  to 
cope  with  a  disease  of  even  common  severity. 

In  the  course  of  a  fortnight  from  his  attack,  his  wife, 
who  had  been  detained  at  home  by  the  state  of  her 
own  health,  was  able  to  join  him;  and  he  began 
gradually  to  improve,  though  his  cough  still  continued 


236  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

to  harass  him.  He  was  placed  in  a  carriage  and 
taken  abroad,  though  still  in  a  state  of  extreme  tenuity 
and  feebleness.  As  it  was  very  clear  that  it  would  be 
a  long  time  before  he  would  be  able  to  resume  his  du- 
ties, or  even  bear  the  fatigue  of  seemg  his  friends,  it 
was  judged  inexpedient  for  him  to  return  home ;  and 
lodgings  were  procured  for  him  at  Worcester,  whither 
he  removed,  as  soon  as  he  was  able,  by  easy  stages,  and 
there  fixed  his  residence,  with  the  intention  of  remain- 
ing through  the  summer. 

In  the  mean  time  he  had  received  the  most  gratifying 
assurances  of  the  affection  of  his  people,  and  of  their 
lively  interest  in  his  welfare.  These  were  exhibited 
not  only  by  the  deep  anxiety  manifested  during  his  ill- 
ness, increased  as  it  was  by  the  circumstances  under 
which  it  occurred,  but  by  the  kind  and  prompt  provi- 
sion which  was  immediately  made  for  the  supply  of 
his  pulpit,  so  as  to  relieve  his  mind  at  once  and  entirely 
from  all  uneasiness  on  that  account.  Indeed,  this  event 
in  his  life,  accompanied,  as  it  seemed  to  be  at  first,  by 
so  much  to  render  it  one  of  peculiar  trial  and  suff'ering, 
served  to  bring  out  expressions  and  testimonials  of  re- 
gard and  sympathy  for  him,  both  at  home  and  abroad, 
in  quarters  where  he  had  no  particular  reason  to  look 
for  it,  to  an  extent  for  which  he  was  by  no  means 
prepared,  and  in  a  manner  to  affect  him  deeply. 

He  remained  in  Worcester  for  about  six  weeks,  his 
strength  gradually  returning,  and  his  pulmonary  symp- 
toms subsiding.  He  was  not  able,  however,  to  use  his 
pen  till  the  middle  of  the  month  of  July.  Extracts 
from  letters  subsequently  written,  will  exhibit  in  the 
best  manner  the  progress  of  his  recovery,  and  the  state, 
during  it,  both  of  his  body  and  mind.     The  following, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  237 

addressed  to  a  young  friend  engaged  in  the  study  of 
divinity,  who  had  written  to  him  on  the  subject  of  a 
visit  to  Germany,  was  one  of  the  first  which  he  at- 
tempted. 

to  mr.  william  barry,  jr. 

"  Worcester,  July  12,  1828. 

"  It  is  such  an  effort  to  me  to  use  the  pen,  that  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  reply  to  your  interesting  letter  very  briefly.  This  I 
the  less  regret,  as  you  appear,  not  only  to  be  decided  as  to  the 
course  of  expediency  and  duty,  but  also  to  have  reflected  so 
maturely  and  seriously  on  the  only  doubtful  part  of  the  ques- 
tion, as  to  render  any  warning  on  the  subject  unnecessary.  I 
need,  therefore,  only  say,  that  I  view  the  advantages  to  be 
derived  from  a  visit  to  Germany  as  so  great  and  decided,  as  to 
make  it  a  matter  of  congratulation  that  you  are  able  to  under- 
take it ;  not  doubting  that  you  will  avail  yourself  of  them  to 
the  utmost. 

"  As  to  the  perils,  your  being  perfectly  aware  of  them  arms 
you  against  them ;  and  I  should  never  fear  to  trust  a  man  of 
sober  and  habitual  religious  principle  and  devout  affections  to 
a  contest  with  mysticism  and  skepticism.  My  best  wishes  for 
your  health  and  improvement  go  with  you.  May  a  good 
Providence  keep  you  from  all  evil  to  body  and  to  soul ;  and 
may  you  come  back  to  us,  thoroughly  furnished  for  every  good 
work,  and  zealous  to  devote  your  acquired  gifts  to  the  service 
of  the  churches,  and  the  cause  of  truth  and  righteousness.  Do 
not  fail  to  remember,  that  I  desire  to  be  remembered  with 
your  correspondents,  and  to  hear  from  you  from  time  to 
time." 

to  mrs.  william  ware. 

*'  Worcester,  July  13,  1828. 
"  I  know  that  you  will  be  anxious  for  the  earliest  intelli- 
gence, and  therefore  I  write  to  you  immediately,  that  Mary  is 


238 


JR. 


safely  the  mother  of  a  fine  boy.  She  is  apparently  doing  very 
well.  This  is  another  in  the  train  of  our  blessings,  which 
have  been  so  singularly  dispensed,  that  we  almost  feared  that 
there  must  be  here  an  interruption.  That  very  event  of  my 
being  taken  ill  away  from  home,  which  seemed  so  untoward, 
has  proved  to  be  the  most  kind  appointment ;  first  to  myself, 
for  I  have  doubtless  recovered  much  faster  than  I  could  have 
done  in  Boston  ;  and  then  to  Mary,  who  was  thought  to  run 
some  risk  in  coming  to  me,  but  has  been  gaining  strength, 
health,  and  flesh,  daily,  and  is  now  in  a  situation  quite  as 
propitious,  to  say  the  least,  as  if  she  were  amongst  the  crowd 
of  friends  in  Boston.  She  has  been  my  driver,  too,  till  now  I 
am  able  to  drive  myself,  and  can  do  without  her  aid. 

"  When  our  hearts  are  softened  by  sickness,  and  quickened 
by  deliverance,  how  visible  is  the  hand  of  Providence.  In 
few  circumstances  of  my  life  have  I  traced  it  with  so  much 
admiration,  as  during  the  last  six  weeks.  Who  would  have 
thought,  that  I  should  have  had  the  comfort  of  being  attended, 
first  by  two  brothers,  and  then  by  my  wife ;  when  I  had  no 
reason  to  expect  either,  least  of  all,  the  last  ?  And,  if  I  were  to 
tell  you  how  I  felt,  and  still  feel,  about  the  truly  fraternal  vis- 
its of  John  and  William,  you  would  think  me  foolish.  But  so 
it  is.  I  find  that  severe  and  solitary  sickness  opens  floods  of 
feeling;  and  makes  even  the  little,  every-day  kindnesses  of 
those  around  appear  great  and  important.  It  will  teach  me  to 
value  more,  and  more  willingly  make,  my  visits  to  the  sick  ; 
for,  if  apparently  worthless  in  my  own  eyes,  I  shall  know  that 
they  are  inestimable  in  the  view  of  the  patients. 

"  I  still  gain  daily,  and  begin  to  believe  that  I  may  hope  for 
a  thorough  restoration.  I  hope  to  take  horseback  exercise 
this  week,  and,  as  soon  as  both  Mary  and  myself  are  well 
enough,  shall  start  for  the  White  Hills.  My  earliest  prospect 
of  returning  home  and  preaching  is  October." 

"My  feelings,"    he   says,    July   11,    "are   those   of 


239 

health,  excepting  Aveakness,  which  is  great.  Within  a 
week  my  voice  has  greatly  mended,  and  I  feel  but  slight 
mieasiness  at  my  chest.  I  ventured  to  meeting  yester- 
day morning  ;  and,  as  I  rode  going  arid  returning,  and 
did  not  stand  at  all,  I  suffered  no  fatigue.  It  was  a 
great  enjoyment."  July  25.  —  ''I  returned  yesterday 
from  a  little  jaunt  of  three  days  to  Andover.  Brother 
Allen  drove  me ;  and,  though  it  was  much  more  than  I 
had  previously  ridden,  I  feel  much  better  for  it.  In 
reply  to  your  queries,  no  one  can  perceive  that  I  gain 
flesh,  but  everybody  remarks  on  the  improvement  of 
my  countenance.  I  have  walked  a  quarter  of  a  mile, 
and  this  is  as  much  as  I  have  yet  been  able  to  do  at 
once ;  but  I  can  do  it  several  times,  that  is,  I  have  done 
it  twice  in  a  day.  But,  having  usually  ridden  during 
all  the  cool  hours  of  the  day,  I  have  made  less  progress 
in  the  power  of  walking  than  I  might  have  done.  I 
still  keep  open  the  blister,  but  it  contracts  in  size. 
Further,  I  am  not  sure  whether  the  uneasiness  which  I 
sometimes  feel  in  my  chest  is  within,  or  belonging  to 
the  external  sore.  But  I  am  sure  that  I  bear  very  lit- 
tle use  of  my  voice,  and  have  not  gained  in  this  partic- 
ular for  a  fortnight."  "  I  have  received  a  long  letter 
from  — — ,  containing  a  solemn  and  pathetic  argument 
and  exhortation  on  the  state  of  my  case,  urging  Eng- 
land, and  a  year's  relaxation,  &c.  I  should  be  per- 
fectly ashamed  to  go  to  England." 

TO  MR.    GANNETT. 

"  The  long  letter,  which  I  proposed  writing,  was  chiefly  to 
be  a  lecture  on  health,  with  personal  application  to  the  younger 
bishop  of  Federal  Street.  But  I  will  give  you  two  sentences 
instead  of  an  epistle.     I  have  long  been  concerned  at  your 


240  LIFE   OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

mode  of  life,  which  appears  to  be  a  careless,  reckless  throwing 
away  of  a  chance  of  longevity ;  and,  since  I  have  been  sud- 
denly cut  ofl^  in  the  midst  of  a  similar  career,  I  have  thought 
of  you  much,  and  been  anxious,  like  Dives,  to  send  you  a 
message,  lest  you  also  come  into  this  place  of  torment.  I  refer 
not  to  work,  but  to  imprudence  ;  for  it  is  nonsense  to  suppose 
that  either  of  us  works  too  much,  whatever  friends  may  say. 
Other  men  there  have  been  who  have  done  more.  But  we 
work  imprudently,  and  I  think  very  much  alike.  Want  of 
method,  late  and  irregular  hours,  neglect  of  regular  exercise  of 
body  to  balance  every  day  the  fatigue  of  the  mind,  and  some- 
times violent  exercise,  as  if  to  do  up  the  thing  by  the  job.  No 
constitutions  can  stand  such  a  life.  I  am  ruined  by  it,  and 
yet  I  feel  sure,  that,  by  a  right  course,  I  could  have  done 
more  in  my  profession  than  I  have  done,  and  yet  kept  my 
health.  For  me,  it  is  too  late  ;  for  you,  it  is  not.  And  I  am 
deeply  anxious  that  you  should  act  prudently  from  my  experi- 
ence, and  not  wait  for  3'our  own.  It  is  not  health,  only  ;  it  is 
the  power  of  usefulness  ;  and  the  sin,  which  weighs  upon  the 
mind  and  depresses  it,  takes  away  the  consolations  of  a  sick 
bed,  embittering  the  heart  with  the  thought,  that  we  are  suf- 
fering the  just  punishment  of  our  folly  and  the  neglect  of 
duty. 

"  And  there  is  no  little  sting  added  to  the  mortification,  if, 
meantime,  friends  are  attributing  the  evil  to  undue  earnestness 
in  duty.  I  would  not  have  you  feel  this  as  I  have  felt  it.  It 
is  the  only  drawback  which  I  have  had,  amidst  the  many  com- 
forts and  abundant  blessings  of  my  illness.  A  singularly  kind 
Providence,  a  multitude  of  good  friends,  and  everything  which 
earth  or  religion  could  furnish  for  consolation  and  satisfaction, 
have  made  these  few  v*'eeks  of  trial,  weeks  of  peculiar  blessings, 
which  nothing  has  occurred  to  mar,  except  the  intrusion  of 
thoughts  of  self-reproach,  because  I  had  brought  the  evil  on  my- 
self by  negligent  imprudence,  after  previous  warning.  I  beg 
you  to  think  on  this  subject,  and  act.     You  are  endowed  with 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  241 

powers  of  doing  good,  which  not  many  possess,  and  which  you 
ought  not  to  trifle  with.     In  these  days  they  are  needed." 

The  following  is  an  answer  to  a  letter  from  the  same 
friend,  proposing  a  missionary  tour  into  the  interior  of 
the  State  of  New  York. 

to  bir.  gannett. 

*'  Worcester,  August  17,  1828. 
"  I  received  your  letter  yesterday,  on  my  return  from  a  ride 
to  Ware,  where  I  spent  a  night,  revolving  over  in  my  mind 
the  hours  of  my  sickness.  I  drove  myself  in  a  chaise,  which 
may  show  how  far  my  strength  has  got.  As  to  your  plan,  I 
see  no  objection  to  it ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  many  things  to  rec- 
ommend it.  It  will  be  of  service  to  yourself;  and  I  think  it 
quite  time,  that  the  people  of  that  region  should  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  evincing  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  the  assertion  so 
often  made,  of  their  readiness  to  hear  Unitarianism.  I  doubt 
whether  you  could  accomplish  it  in  a  month,  though  in  that 
time  you  could  preach  once  in  the  principal  towns.  But  might 
it  not  be  more  profitable  to  stay  in  some  one  place  till,  by 
repeated  services,  something  hke  a  permanent  interest  could 
be  excited,  and  the  embryo  of  a  society  possibly  be  formed  ? 
This  may  be  worth  considering.  The  present  month  is  prob- 
ably less  favorable  for  such  an  experiment  than  the  next, — 
especially  than  October  ;  though,  on  second  thought,  the  peo- 
ple in  the  large  towns  are  not  engaged  in  the  wheat  harvest, 
and  it  may  therefore  matter  little.  Mr.  Pierce  could  inform 
you.  Finally,  I  hope  you  will  do  it.  On  reaching  one  of  the 
towns,  you  could  in  some  way  appoint  one  meeting,  and  at 
that  it  were  better  to  name  a  second.  At  that  time  you  could 
determine  whether  it  were  advisable  to  do  more.  Of  course 
there  are  some  hazards  in  preaching  extemporaneously,  but 
for  such  a  purpose  I  am  persuaded  the  advantages  are  such 
as  to  put  all  risk  out  of  the  question.  It  is  a  great  matter  to 
21 


242  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

be  able  to  change  the  subject  and  mode  of  treatment,  and  adapt 
and  modify,  according  as  experience  or  occasion  shall  sug- 
gest. Your  facility  is  such,  that  you  would  apprehend  noth- 
ing, and  would  only  have  to  guard  against  your  tendency  to 
too  great  impetuosity,  which  sometimes  might  hurry  you  into 
indistinctness  both  of  language  and  utterance.  If  you  will 
bear  in  mind  this  single  caution,  you  may  be  assured,  I  think, 
that  you  will  do  better  to  speak  extempore,  than  to  take  any  of 
your  written  sermons. 

"  I  see  no  reason  why  the  Executive  Committee  should  not 
make  an  appropriation  toward  this  object.  It  would  certainly 
greatly  favor  our  operations,  to  make  a  little  excitement  all 
along  that  road. 

"  You  are  right  in  your  allusion  to  the  proofs  of  Divine 
Goodness  w^hich  have  attended  me.  I  have  felt  as  if  they 
were  singular,  and  have  looked  at  them  in  the  train  and  devel- 
opment of  events,  very  much  as  Jacob  must  have  done,  when 
he  saw  the  end  of  his  trials.  Some  of  the  most  apparently 
adverse  circumstances  have  ripened  into  great  blessings ;  and 
I  pray  that  I  may  come  back  to  my  place  better  fitted,  as  I  may 
be  and  ought  to  be,  for  some  of  its  duties.  I  feel  now  as  if  I 
could  go  to  sick  chambers  with  some  confidence  that  I  can 
give  comfort  and  do  good,  which  I  never  have  felt  yet." 

During  this  summer  a  plan  for  establishing  a  profes- 
sorship of  Pulpit  Eloquence  and  the  Pastoral  Care,  in 
the  Divinity  School  at  Cambridge,  was  carried  into 
effect.  The  want  of  a  teacher  in  this  department  had 
been  long  felt,  but  I  am  not  aware  that  any  serious 
movement  had  been  previously  made  for  supplying  it. 
The  general  feeling  of  the  friends  of  theological  educa- 
tion had  been  directed  to  Mr.  Ware,  as  a  suitable  person 
to  fill  this  place  whenever  it  should  be  created,  both  on 
account  of  his  hearty  devotion  to  the  duties  of  the  pas- 
toral cilice  in  his  own  person,  and  his  well-known  and 


JR.  243 

deep  interest  in  the  education  of  young  men  for  the 
ministry.  His  present  sickness  and  its  probable  contin- 
ued influence  on  his  health,  as  well  as  the  extent  to 
which  this  had  been  previously  impaired,  rendered  it 
desirable  that  he  should  be  relieved  from  a  situation  in 
which  he  was  constantly  under  temptation  to  continue 
a  course  of  life  which  had  already  so  much  exhausted 
the  powers  of  his  constitution.  The  influence  of  this 
consideration  on  the  minds  of  many  of  his  friends  doubt- 
less hastened  to  maturity  the  plan  for  the  establishment 
of  a  professorship  at  this  time:  and  they  took  a  strong 
interest  in  it  from  the  belief,  that  it  would  be  the  means 
of  removing  him  to  a  sphere  of  action,  in  which,  while 
his  duties  would  be  less  arduous,  his  usefulness  would 
be  at  least  not  diminished. 

Of  this  project  he  received  early  intimation,  though 
no  direct  or  official  communication.  It  became  neces- 
sarily, therefore,  a  subject  of  serious  consideration  with 
him ;  and  he  sought,  in  a  confidential  manner,  the  coun- 
sels and  opinions  of  some  of  his  friends,  as  to  the  course 
which  it  would  be  best  for  him  to  pursue,  in  case  the 
proposal  were  directly  made.  He  thus  writes  on  this 
subject. 

TO    HIS    BROTHER   JOHN. 

"  Worcester,  August  14,  1S2S. 
"  I  got  your  letter  to-night.  I  am  surprised  that  the  propo- 
sition is  so  old  to  you,  for  I  had  no  idea  that  it  had  been  here- 
tofore hinted.  The  suggestion  is  almost  new  to  me,  except  as 
I  have  sometimes  fancied,  in  looking  at  the  state  and  pros- 
pects of  religion,  that  I  had  some  notions  which  would  do 
good  at  Cambridge.  I  think  as  you  do,  of  the  essential 
importance  of  that  place.  I  have  long  seen  what  ought  to  be 
done;  and,  if  it  is  said  by  those  whose  place  it  is  to  judge, 


244  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR 


that  I  am  the  person  to  undertake  it,  I  should  feel  that  I  ought 
not  to  decline  the  task.  A  great  undertaking  it  would  be,  and 
I  could  not  engage  in  it  without  anxiety  and  fear.  But  I  must 
say,  that  the  duties  would  be  more  to  my  taste  than  any  that 
I  can  think  of;  and,  feeling  the  immense  consequence  of 
them,  and  having  seen,  by  experience,  what  is  needed,  I 
should  carry  to  the  work  an  engaged  mind  and  an  earnest 
desire  to  effect  something ;  and  I  have  always  found  this  one 
of  the  most  essential  qualifications.  I  have  heard  of  it  only 
through  Mr.  Higginson,  who  communicated  the  doings  of  the 
Directors  and  their  conference  with  the  Corporation,  and  that 
their  determination  is  to  make  the  appointment  this  fall,  if 
they  can  get  the  funds.  Means  are  to  be  taken  for  this  end 
at  once,  and  he  says  they  are  confident  of  success.  In  truth, 
the  Institution  cannot  go  on  till  it  has  a  reinforcement.  But 
my  feelings  respecting  a  parish,  which  has  come  round  me  as 
ours  has,  and  has  always  treated  me  with  such  exemplary 
candor  and  kindness,  will  render  the  struggle  not  an  easy  one. 
"  Of  course  nothing  will  be  said  of  it  till  the  appointment  is 
made.  I  am  very  glad  to  have  your  so  full  expression  on  the 
subject;— it  makes  me  more  sure  that  I  am  not  wrong." 

Towards  the  end  of  August,  he  had  so  far  recovered 
his  strength  as  to  render  it  safe  for  him  to  undertake  a 
journey  alone  on  horseback,  a  remedy  which  he  had 
before  found  so  beneficial. 

The  following  notices  of  the  route,  incidents,  and 
other  circumstances  connected  with  this  journey,  are 
selected  from  letters,  chiefly  to  his  wife,  written  in  the 
course  of  it. 

"  Templeton,  Monday,  August  25,  1S28.— Dined  in  com- 
pany with  two ministers,  one  of  whom  complained  that 

brandy  was  put  on  the  table,  and  went  on  to  gormandize  meat, 
pudding,  and  pie,  three  cups  of  strong  coffee,  and  two  tumblers 


.R.  245 

of  bottled  cider.  The  other  ate,  as  I  did,  of  but  one  dish.  The 
day  was  excessively  hot,  but  a  good  breeze  till  about  five, 
P.  M.,  when  the  afternoon  became  still,  close,  and  uncomfort- 
able. I  reached  Winchendon,  seven  miles,  about  seven  o'clock  ; 
miserable  inn  ; — milk  set  on  the  table  in  an  old  broken  white 
earthen  washbowl,  and  a  tea-cup  to  dip  it  out ;— crackers, 
baked  at  least  two  years  ago.  I  think  my  plan  of  two  meals 
a  day  will  answer  very  well.  As  yet,  I  feel  finely.  I  shall 
seek  to  ride,  as  I  did  to-day,  from  six  to  nine  or  ten,  A.  M., 
dine  at  twelve,  and  take  milk  in  the  evening.  Being  nowhere 
at  the  breakfast  hour,  nobody  is  distressed  at  my  going  with- 
out a  meal,  and  I  ride  far  more  comfortably. 

"  Thursday. — Rode  thirteen  miles  to  Walpole,  and  from 
here  shall  despatch  this  letter.  My  thoughts  go  to  you,  and 
fancy  that  you  may  be  quite  sick,  and  half  suffocated  in  your 
hot  room,  while  I  am  here  enjoying  myself  in  the  wide  and 
free  world.  But  I  will  not  doubt  that  you  are  doing  well. 
What  perverse  creatures  we  should  be,  if,  after  all  the  past,, 
we  could  not  take  quietly  and  with  confidence,  any  course  of 
events 

"  Woodstock,  Vt.,  Sat.  Eve.,  Aug.  30.— This  hot  weather 
has  been  really  terrible.  For  myself  I  have  not  greatly  suf- 
fered from  the  heat,  except  through  the  sufferings  of  my  horse, 
who  has  so  wilted  under  it  as  to  retard  me  in  my  way.  I  was 
yesterday  weighed,  and  have  gained  two  pounds  since  I  was 
at  Ware,  five  weeks  ago.  This  is  a  very  pleasant,  well-built 
village,  about  as  large  as  Worcester,  lying  directly  in  the  midst 
of  very  high  hills,  which  crowd  upon  it  on  every  side.  It  is 
very  striking,  after  riding  among  the  mountains  for  eight 
miles,  with  here  and  there  a  little,  one-story  house  perched  on 
the  hill-side,  to  enter  suddenly  on  a  town  like  this,  crowded 
with  people  and  bustling  with  business.  You  wonder  where 
they  can  have  come  from.  Saturday  is  the  day  when  the 
neighboring  farmers  throng  in  to  buy  and  sell ;  w^hen  I  arrived, 
the  streets  were  literally  full  of  men  and  wagons  and  horses, 
21* 


246  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

as  thick  as  I  ever  saw  them  on  the  Common  at  Commence- 
ment.^ The  country  in  this  State  strikes  one  finely ; — noble 
hills  covered  with  cattle  and  orchards,  here  and  there  a  beau- 
tiful valley,  richly  cultivated,  and  ever^^where  little  mountain 
streams  with  their  mills.  I  find,  too,  that  Vermont  gains  in 
population  faster  than  Massachusetts. 

"  Sunday  Eve. — One  never  knows  who  may  be  near  him. 
Here  I  was  glorying  in  my  incognito,  and  fancying  I  might 
do  any  mischief  and  no  matter,  when,  lo!  a  gentleman  this 
morning  calls  me  by  name,  and  I  find  it  to  be  Mr.  Ward,  of 
Worcester,  just  returning  from  Quebec,  and  he  introduces  me 
to  Mr.  Atkinson,  who  knows  me  well  by  sight.  Then,  on 
returning  from  church,  the  first  sight  is  Miss  Storrow  entering 
the  tavern  with  other  ladies,  and  she  leads  me  up  stairs  to  her 
uncle's  apartment,  and  introduces  me  to  a  host,  and  so  I  am 

at  home  at  once I  have  heard  the  Calvinist 

and  ^  Christian^  ministers  to-day.  Both  pretty  well ;  the  latter 
quite  ingenious  in  a  parallel  between  Joseph  in  Egypt  and 
Jesus  Christ. 

"  Monday,  Sept.  1. — Went  fourteen  miles  over  a  most  wild 
road,  through  a  region  resembling  the  Catskills,  the  road  often- 
times formed  on  the  side  of  just  such  precipices  as  we  saw  at 
the  Catskill  water-falls.  Very  few  houses ;  here  and  there  a 
little  interval  between  the  mountains  capable  of  cultivation.  I 
am  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  highest  mountains.  I 
stopped  at  noon  at  the  only  tavern,  and  found  a  very  pretty 
family  ;— two  rather  handsome  daughters,  who  \\^it  on  trav- 
ellers,—very  modest,  proper,  and  well-behaved.  One  might 
hatch  up  quite  a  romance  here.  I  had  intended  going  no  fur- 
ther than  this,  as  there  is  no  decent  stopping-place  under  four- 
teen miles  ;  but,  as  the  day  was  cloudy  and  cool,  and  I  in  a 
hurry  for  my  letters,  I  started  and  went  right  up  hill  for  seven 

*  He  refers  to  the  days  of  his  boyhood,  when  the  spectacle  exhibited  by  the 
town  of  Cambridge  on  the  day  of  this  anniversary  was  very  different  from  that 
which  is  now  witnessed. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  247 

miles.  This  is  crossing  the  Green  Mountains  ;  and,  if  you 
can  fancy  a  road  just  twice  as  bad  as  that  which  we  mistook  in 
going  to  Trenton,  you  will  have  an  image  of  what  I  passed.  A 
shower  overtook  me  at  nine  miles,  and  I  stopped  at  a  poor  tav- 
ern for  the  night,  very  near  Killington  Peak,  which  us^^d  to  be 
thought  the  highest  of  these  mountains,  but  has  been  lately 
ascertained  to  be,  I  think,  the  third  in  altitude.  It  stands  very 
majestically  before  this  house,  and  is  this  afternoon  wrapt  in 
very  thick  and  dignified  clouds.  The  name  of  this  place  is 
Mendon ; — only  sixty  families  in  the  town,  and  only  one  house 
in  sight  of  this.  The  landlady  is  a  genuine  scold,  the  first  I 
have  heard  for  a  long  time ;  and  her  poor  husband  looks  so 
sad  and  drooping,  and  her  four  children  are  so  cross  and  impu- 
dent  

^^  Thursday  Eve.,  Sept.  4.— Conceive  of  my  fidgets,  impa- 
tient as  I  am  to  be  at  Burlington  and  hear  from  you,  to  be 
obliged  to  stay  at  Brandon  all  day  yesterday,  and  only  make 
out  to-day  to  dodge  between  the  drops  seven  miles  to  Salisbury. 
The  land  is  all  afloat." 

The  time  which  he  was  thus  obliged  to  consume  on 
the  road,  was  not  wholly  lost.  His  mind  and  pen,  as 
we  shall  see  hereafter,  were  now  occupied  during  his 
moments  of  leisure  in  the  preparation  of  a  work  which 
he  had  in  contemplation;  and  the  following  poetical 
epistle  to  his  wife,  written  at  the  same  time,  shows  by 
what  kind  of  thoughts  his  idle  hours  were  employed. 

"  TO   MARY. 

"  Dear  Mary,  't  is  the  fourteenth  day 
Since  I  was  parted  from  your  side  ; 

And  still  upon  my  lengthening  way 
In  solitude  I  ride; 

But  not  a  word  has  come  to  tell 

If  those  I  left  at  home  are  well. 


248  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

*'  I  am  not  of  an  anxious  mind, 

Nor  prone  to  cherish  useless  fear  ; 
Yet  oft  methinks  the  very  wind 

Is  whispering  in  my  ear, 
That  many  an  evil  may  take  place 
t  Within  a  fortnight's  narrow  space. 

"  'T  is  true  indeed  ;  disease  and  pain 

INIay  all  this  while  have  been  your  lot ; 
And,  when  I  reach  my  home  again, 
Death  may  have  marked  the  spot. 
I  need  but  dwell  on  thoughts  like  these, 
To  be  as  WTetched  as  I  please. 

*'  But  no,  —  a  happier  thought  is  mine  ; 

The  absent,  like  the  present  scene, 
Is  guided  by  a  Friend  Divine, 

Who  bids  us  wait  serene 
The  issues  of  that  gracious  will, 
Which  mingles  good  with  every  ill. 

**  And  who  should  feel  this  tranquil  trust 

In  that  Benignant  One  above, — 

Who  ne'er  forgets  that  we  are  dust, 

And  rules  with  pitying  love, — 
Like  us,  who  both  have  just  been  led 
Back  from  the  confines  of  the  dead  ? 

**  Like  us,  who,  'mid  the  various  hours 
That  mark  life's  changeful  wilderness, 
Have  always  found  its  suns  and  showers 

Alike  designed  to  bless  1 
Led  on  and  taught  as  we  have  been, 
Distrust  would  be  indeed  a  sin. 

*'  Darkness,  'tis  true,  and  death  must  come  ; 

But  they  should  bring  us  no  dismay  ; 
They  are  but  guides  to  lead  us  home. 

And  then  to  pass  away. 
Oh,  who  will  keep  a  troubled  mind, 
That  knows  this  glory  is  designed  ? 


LIFE    OF   HENRY    WAREj  JR.  249 

"  Then,  clearest,  present  or  apart, 
An  equal  calmness  let  us  wear; 
Let  steadfast  Faith  control  the  heart, 

And  still  its  throbs  of  care. 
We  may  not  lean  on  things  of  dust ; 
But  Heaven  is  worthy  all  our  trust. 
*'  Salisbury  and  Ver games,  September  ith  and  5^/i." 

"  Burlington,  Sept.  6.— I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  felt  on  get- 
ting your  letters  this  afternoon,  and  learning  how  you  had 
been  all  this  time.  You  are  a  good  creature  to  write  so  fully, 
and  I  am  as  liappy  as  a  prince.  I  never  will  be  a  fortnight 
again  without  hearing.     I  have  tried  it  this  time,  and  it  is 

enough The  rains  have  been  tremendous, — 

torn  away  bridges  and  made  gullies,  so  that  many  places  are 
dangerous.  You  see  on  the  other  page  how  I  employed  my- 
self yesterday  and  to-day.  There  is  no  great  poetry  in  the 
thing,  but  a  great  deal  of  truth;  and,  as  it  was  a  pleasant 
exercise  to  me  to  fashion  it,  I  hope  you  will  not  find  the  read- 
ing of  it  otherwise.    It  is  as  sincere  as  if  it  were  prose 

I  expect  to  spend  next  Sunday  (14th)  in  Montreal;  from 
Montreal  to  Quebec  in  the  boat,  and  ride  back ;  then  take  the 
boats  through  Lake  Champlain,  and  again  at  Albany,  and  so 
go  down  to  New  York,  whence  by  land  home.  This  seems 
to  be  the  most  feasible  plan,  and  may  bring  me  home  by  the 
first  of  October,  when  I  trust  I  may  find  you  in  our  palace  in 
Sheafe  Street,  and  a  happy  day  it  will  be.  I  have  no  doubt 
from  appearances,  that  I  may  preach  then  a  little,  and,  by 
making  head-quarters  there,  and  driving  round  the  country 
week  days,  get  through  the  fall  very  well.  In  which  said 
drivings  I  shall  have  sometimes  your  company,  which  I  have 
often  sighed  for,  and  which  would  have  made  many  of  the 
sights  and  scenes  I  have  been  passing  far  more  interesting. 
But  all  in  good  time.  To-day  I  shall  be  much  by  myself,  and 
hope  to  enjoy  it.     It  is  singular,  that  each  of  these  three  Sun- 


250  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

days  there  should  be  very  particular  causes  making  it  uncom- 
monly desirable  I  should  preach,  especially  at  Princeton  and 
here.  At  Woodstock  the  '  Christia?is '  would  have  been  glad 
to  have  me,  and  it  was  an  opportunity  to  be  much  prized.  I 
really  feel  this  deprivation  not  a  little.  But  yours  is  still 
greater  in  not  being  able  to  attend  worship  at  all.  May  it 
be  more  than  made  up  to  you  in  private  and  in  other  blessings. 

"  Monday  Evening.  —  S wanton,  eight  miles.  This  is  the 
last  town  in  the  United  States.  The  Canada  line  is  about 
seven  miles  from  this.  A  fine  place  for  smugglers.  Many 
fine  mills  and  large  water  works  for  cutting  and  sawing  marble. 
Training-day ;  a  militia  company  abroad  in  all  its  glory, — 
some  with  bayonets,  some  without, — some  shouldering  ram- 
rods instead  of  muskets,— one  with  a  stick  of  wood,  of  the  sort 
called  cat-stick,— ■Siniii  one  marching  majestically,  with  both 
hands  in  his  breeches-pockets,— their  whole  deportment  corre- 
sponding. It  was  all  of  a  piece  with  the  court  which  I  saw 
this  morning,  where  the  lawyers  were  eating  apples,  and 
actually  more  than  one  continued  eating  while  addressing  the 
judges.  "Weather  a  little  more  moderate  to-night.  Only 
twenty  miles  to-day,  when,  if  my  horse  had  held  out,  I  might 
have  gone  forty; — twenty  is  not  enough,  especially  as  I  can 
much  of  the  time  only  go  on  a  walk  or  a  jog  but  little  faster. 
I  need  more  exercise ;  I  am  sure,  therefore,  that  I  shall  quit 
the  horse.  Miserable  accommodations  here.  I  am  in  a  room 
twelve  feet  square,  with  a  bed,  a  chair,  and  a  wash-stand ;— I 
am  writing  on  the  wash-stand.  Having  set  the  basin  on  the 
floor,  I  have  taken  out  the  drawer  and  laid  it  bottom  up  on  the 
top,  and  lo  !  an  elegant  Avriting-desk.  But  I  am  as  well  and 
as  happy,  as  if  I  were  master  of  the  palace  of  Versailles,  and 
possessed  the  power^and  luxury  of  its  owner.  I  hope  you  are 
so  too  ; — would  that  I  possessed  the  looking-glass  of  the  fairy 
tale,  by  a  peep  into  which  I  might  see  you  as  you  are. 

"  St.  John's,  Wednesday  Evening.— hQdiY'mg  S wanton  this 


JR.  251 

fine,  beautiful,  and  cool  day,  I  have  urged  my  Rosinante  vehe- 
mently till  he  has  fairly  brought  me  thirty-five  miles,  by  which 
I  gain  more  than  a  day.  I  am  not  sensibly  tired ;— the  road 
has  been  level  all  the  way.  After  about  six  miles  I  came  to  a 
spot  where  the  lake  had  overflowed  the  road  for  nearly  half 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  I  was  obliged  to  ride  through  the 
waves  two  and  three  feet  deep.  Then  a  small  river,  from 
which  the  bridge  had  been  washed  away,  over  which  I  was 
ferried  by  a  girl  of  blooming  sixteen,  without  stockings, — who 
made  a  very  interesting  Charon,  and  wet  her  beautiful  ankles 
in  the  cause.  Soon  after  this,  I  crossed  the  Canada  line,  and 
fairly  entered  his  Majesty's  dominions.  The  frontiers  on 
both  sides  are  miserable  ; — thinly  peopled  by  poor  settlers  in 
shabby  log-houses.  The  first  village  was  at  Misisque  Bay ; 
after  leaving  which,  the  road  winds  round  the  head  of  the 
lake  within  twenty  feet  of  the  water  for  nearly  two  miles, — a 
deep  sand  mixed  up  in  a  rough  style  with  stumps  and  boards, 
so  as  to  make  it  almost  impassable.  The  boards  are  brought 
into  the  lake  from  the  various  streams  on  which  saw-mills  are 
situated,  and  then  are  washed  on  the  shore  at  this  northern 
extremity.  The  recent  freshet  has  deposited  hundreds  of  cart- 
loads of  timber,  and  boards,  and  sawdust.  The  road  is  there- 
fore an  unamalgamated  mixture  of  those  things.  The  next 
village  is  Henryville,  twelve  miles  from  St.  John's  ;  and  here 
begins  a  wide  road,  straight  as  an  arrovv-  and  level  as  a  canal. 
You  might  see  the  whole  distance,  nay,  to  the  north  pole  if  it 
were  not  for  the  sphericity  of  the  earth.  I  never  saw  any- 
thing like  it.  It  tires  one  to  look  at  it.  It  is  now,  after  the 
rains,  bad,  but  it  is  usually  excellent,  as  I  could  see  from  cer- 
tain passages.  It  is  lined  along  the  whole  distance  by  rows  of 
log-houses,  or  rather  timber-houses,  all  of  one  size  and  shape, 
about  twenty  or  thirty  feet  square,  with  one  door  and  three 
windows ;  some  very  neatly  whitewashed.  The  people  seem 
poor  and  dirty.     I  could  see  into  their  houses  as  I  passed ;  there 


253  LITE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

is  but  one  room,  and  this  often  has  two  beds  in  it ;  cooking 
seems  to  be  done  out  of  doors,  and  there  the  oven  is  some- 
times built  over  the  pigsty.  The  land  is  hardly  cultivated  at 
all.  I  find  that  the  road  runs  along  the  River  Richelieu,  per- 
haps a  mile  from  the  bank,  but  the  river  is  nowhere  visible. 
I  crossed  it  at  this  city  over  a  fine  wooden  bridge  nearly  as  long 
as  West-Boston  bridge.    This  is  a  shabby  town,  not  very  large. 

"  Montreal,  Thursday,  Wth.—Weii  St.  John's  at  about  nine 
o'clock  for  La  Prairie,  eighteen  miles,  a  small  town  on  the  St. 
Lav/rence,  which  derives  its  name  from  its  situation  and  the 
neighborhood. 

"  One  vast  plain  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see,  not  fertile  or  much 
cultivated.  Everything  like  a  foreign  land, — strange  manners, 
dress,  and  language.  Every  boy  I  have  seen  had  on  John's 
old,  torn,  straw  hat,  and  almost  every  woman  too.  At  half 
past  one  took  steam-boat  for  this  city,  and  came  over  in  an 
hour,  nine  miles, — not  right  across,  but  down  stream.  I  was 
disappointed  at  finding  nothing  at  the  post-office, — yet  perhaps 
ought  not  to  be.  The  first  view  of  the  city  is  better  than  I 
expected;  — streets  narrow,  but  houses  of  substantial  bluish 
stone,  well  built.  The  mountain  gives  the  town  a  picturesque 
air,  as  it  often  may  be  caught  in  glimpses  as  you  pass  the 
streets.  The  handsomest  thing  I  have  seen  was  a  Highland 
soldier,  keeping  guard  at  the  Government  House.  I  had  no 
conception  of  so  rich  a  dress  upon  the  breechless  fellows.  The 
cathedral  is  truly  grand, — nearly  enough  finished  on  the 
Gothic  model  to  give  you  a  good  idea  of  the  whole.  I  have 
been  into  one  of  the  churches,  but  not  to  examine  the  pictures. 
It  is  pleasant  to  me,  I  confess,  to  see  the  church  standing  open, 
and  people  passing  in  and  out  to  their  devotions,  and  men, 
women,  and  priests  all  engaged  there.  There  were  not  a  few ; 
six  priests  variously  employed,  the  oldest  nearly  eighty,  and 
the  youngest  a  handsome,  happy-looking  youngster  of  nine- 
teen or  twenty.     The  various  styles  of  crossing  with  the  holy 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  253 

water  amused  me.  I  went  and  looked  into  the  font ;  it  ought 
to  have  a  great  deal  of  spiritual  holiness,  for  it  has  a  vast  deal 
of  carnal  dirtiness.  The  buildings  of  various  sorts  belonging 
to  the  church  are  of  immense  extent,  and  give  an  idea  of  its 
wealth  and  influence,  which  I  was  not  quite  prepared  for. 
One  of  the  first  things  that  strikes  your  eye  here  is  the  number 
of  men  dressed  in  religious  habits,  whom  you  meet  in  the 
street,  and  the  number  in  military  apparel,— the  army  and  the 
Catholic  church.  I  came  in  the  stage-coach  from  St.  John's, 
having  left  my  horse  to  be  cosseted.  I  shall  save  seven  days 
of  time  by  it  at  least,  and  probably  a  little  in  expense  too. 
This,  however,  is  not  quite  certain.  I  am  now  just  where  I 
long  to  have  you  with  me  ;  I  shall  omit  seeing  many  things  till 
you  come.  I  wrote  to  William,  and  to  the  Parish  Committee 
too,  within  two  days  past.  I  am  more  truly  tired  to-day  than 
since  I  left  home,— standing,  waiting,  and  walking. 

"  Steamboat  Richelieu,  River  St.  Lawrence,  September  13. 

My   last   was   written   on   Thursday,    the 

evening  of  my  arrival  at  Montreal,  and  contained  my  first  im- 
pressions after  a  four  hours'  visit.  I  put  up  at  the  Mansion 
House,  a  fine  place,  where  were  none  but  regular  boarders,  to 
one  of  whom  I  had  a  letter,  Mr.  Handyside,  whose  wife  is 
sister  of  Mr.  Adams  of  Burlington.  They  dine  together  in 
great  style  at  five  o'clock,  but  meet  at  no  other  time,  break- 
fasting and  teaing  as  they  please.  Yesterday  morning,  I 
arose  at  six  and  walked  abroad  to  the  city,  having  a  direction 
to  the  principal  buildings.  I  breakfasted  alone  at  half  past 
eight,  and  then  immediately  took  a  saddle-horse  and  rode 
round  the  mountain ;  not  a  very  mighty  mountain,  but  high 
enough  to  afford  a  very  extensive  view  of  a  very  flat  and  peo- 
pled country.  The  air  was  unhappily  thick.  Having  crossed 
over,  I  went  a  few  miles  into  the  country  and  returned  by 
another  road  around  the  southern  base,  passing  many  fine 
gentlemen's  seats  and  delightful  situations ; — vast  quantities  of 
22 


254  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

apples  and  crab-apples,  but  scarcely  any  other  fruit.  It  was 
half  past  twelve  when  I  returned ;  so,  having  eaten  my  lunch, 
a  necessary  part  of  Montreal  life,  I  sallied  out  again  to  see  the 
town.  I  looked  at  the  pictures  in  the  old  cathedral,  which  do 
not  seem  very  extraordinary,  though  two  sufficiently  pleased 
me.  I  tried  hard,  but  unsuccessfully,  to  get  entrance  to  the 
English  church  and  hear  the  famous  organ,  and  passed  an 
hour  in  a  very  entertaining  way  in  court,  where  the  French 
and  English  languages  are  used  promiscuously.  And  never 
did  I  witness  a  more  disorderly  scene,  not  even  excepting  the 
shabby  court  at  Providence.  The  lawyers  talked  two  at  a  time, 
interrupted  one  another,  interrupted  the  judge,  rushed  from 
their  places,  and  acted  the  part  of  angry  men,  with  most  vehe- 
ment noise,  and  all  sorts  of  gesticulation ;  meanwhile  their 
clients  often  broke  out  aloud,  contradicting  their  counsel,  and 
the  witnesses  gave  their  testimony  in  long  orations,  emulating 
the  tones,  and  shrugs,  and  eloquence  of  the  lawyers  them- 
selves. Several  causes  were  carried  through  while  I  was 
there,  and  all  in  this  way, — all  French  ;  and  I  did  think  his 
Majesty's  judge  and  barristers  might  visit  the  States  and  get  a 
lesson  of  decorum  and  dignity  from  brother  Jonathan.  Then 
I  went  to  the  post-office,  but  no  letter.  Home  to  dinner  at  five 
o'clock,  to  tea  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Handyside  at  seven,  and 
aboard  the  boat  at  eight,  for  I  have  seen  all  the  outside  of 
Montreal  and  have  no  means  of  seeing  the  inside.  Ten, — I 
am  glad  to  be  off.  The  night  was  dark  and  rainy, — the  day 
is  the  same,  and  I  am  shut  up  in  the  cabin.  I  keep  my  eyes 
turning  to  shore,  but  see  nothing  interesting  yet  in  low  and 
level  banks.     We  expect  to  reach  Quebec  at  five  o'clock. 

*^  Evening,  Quebec  — Conceive  of  me  here,  dear  Mary,  on 
this  romantic  spot,  actually  in  a  garrisoned  town,  where  almost 
all  you  see  and  hear  has  to  do  with  -war  and  military  affairs, 
and  common  conversation  is  just  like  what  you  read  in  books, — 
at  least  so  it  has  been  this  evening.    One  of  our  boarders  (we  are 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  255 


but  four  gentlemen  and  two  ladies)  is  a  colonel,  who  has  seen 
service,  and  is  still  connected  with  the  army.  I  have  already 
had  from  him  many  anecdotes  of  the  late  war,  in  which  he 
acted  a  part.  The  house  is  close  by  the  barracks  and  parade- 
ground,  where  I  hear  music  and  other  martial  sounds  con- 
stantly. We  arrived  at  half  past  five  in  the  midst  of  the  rain, 
which  compelled  me  to  buy  an  umbrella  as  soon  as  we  left  the 
boat,  and  has  prevented  my  walking  round  the  town  at  all. 
The  arrival  is  quite  imposing.  You  see  the  hill  on  which  the 
city  stands,  when  approaching  it  two  miles  distant.  The 
river-banks  for  that  distance  are  very  high  and  steep,  very  like 
the  banks  at  Trenton  Falls.  "When  within  a  mile,  you 
see  a  cluster  of  houses  on  the  shore  under  the  bank,  and  great 
quantities  of  lumber.  This  is  Wolfe's  Cove,  where  he  landed 
and  climbed  the  precipitous  banks  to  the  Plains  of  Abraham, 
directly  above.  Passing  this,  you  come  upon  the  Cape,  (which 
is  a  continuation  of  those  high  banks,)  at  the  spot  where  the 
river  St.  Charles  joins  the  St.  Lawrence.  On  this  point  is  the 
town.  You  see  a  towTi  below  the  bank  on  the  very  water's 
edge,  but  nothing  above  till  you  turn  the  corner; — then  comes 
in  sight  the  real  city,  hanging  fearfully  on  the  very  verge  of 
the  precipice  as  if  it  would  fall  off.  You  land  amidst  build- 
ings, and  ascend  by  a  narrow,  crooked,  and  steep  street,  most 
compactly  built,  till  3^ou  enter  the  huge  gate  near  the  top  of 
the  hill.  Our  house  is  near  this,  and  further  I  have  not  seen. 
I  find,  however,  that  it  is  a  much  more  crowded  place  than  I 
had  supposed,  not  less  so  than  Boston,  with  nearly  half  as 
many  inhabitants,  and  about  a  thousand  fewer  than  Montreal. 
The  latter  is  much  more  loosely  built.  There  is 'great  inter- 
course between  the  two  places,  ten  steamboats  running  there 
daily,  or  nearly  so,  and  the  fare  but  two  dollars, — one  hundred 
and  eighty  miles. 

"  Sunday  Night.— I  went  out  for  my  walk  before  breakfast 
for  an  hour,— a  bright   cool   morning,— and  took  the   com- 


256  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,   JR. 

pass  of  the  town.  I  passed  through  three  of  the  gates  and 
saw  the  thickness  of  the  walls,  in  one  place  fifty  feet.  I  have, 
however,  no  distinct  notion  of  the  thing,  and,  if  I  had,  would 
not  try  to  describe  it  on  paper.  Immediately  after  breakfast, 
I  again  went  forth,  and  in  the  Catholic  cathedral  heard  the  ser- 
mon to  the  troops  and  the  English,  by  a  young  man  ;  and  an 
uncommonly  fine  discourse,  on  the  obligation  to  make  our  lives 
consistent  with  our  profession, — an  elevated  piece  of  compo- 
sition, lucid,  forcible,  and  earnest.  Thence  I  went  to  the  Eng- 
lish cathedral,  and  heard  the  service  for  troops  there,  (for  that 
is  the  stated  place  to  which  they  are  marched  in  a  body,)  very 
poor  and  dull.  Then  went  to  the  Romish  cathedral,  and 
heard  the  conclusion  of  a  very  animated  French  sermon,  and 
witnessed  high  mass, — three  bishops,  and  thirty  or  more 
other  clergy,  and  the  big  building  jammed  Avith  people. 
Thence  to  the  regular  service  of  the  English  cathedral,  where 
I  heard  the  bishop  of  Nova  Scotia  give  an  exceeding  good 
preachment,— his  manner  simple  and  solemn,  and,  bating  a 
bit,  his  discourse  good.  In  the  afternoon  I  heard  a  Scotch 
Presbyterian  scream  out  a  poor  sermon  to  a  thin  audience. 
Rather  a  dissipated  day,  you  will  say  ;  but  I  have  gratified  a 
good  deal  of  not  irrational  curiosity,  and  can  truly  say,  that  I 
entered  into  the  spirit  of  much  of  the  liturgy,  and  did  not  lose 
my  time.  But  how  glad  I  shall  be  of  another  quiet  Sunday, 
in  my  own  home  and  amongst  my  own  people.  The  market 
was  open  and  thronged  till  nine  o'clock  or  later  this  morning ; 
and,  at  four  this  afternoon,  the  troops  were  paraded  and  re- 
viewed, and  half  the  city  was  out  to  see  them.  This  is  done 
every  Sunday.  The  new  governor  I  saw  at  church,  and 
mean  to  attend,  if  possible,  his  first  levee,  held  to-morrow. 

"  Monday  Night.  —  I  sallied  out  to  the  drill  of  the  troops 
before  breakfast,  and  after  breakfast  passed  out  of  the  princi- 
pal gate  of  the  city,  that  of  St.  Louis,  on  an  excursion  to  the 
Plains  of  Abraham,  where  Wolfe's  battle  was  fought,  about  a 
mile  from  the  city,  now  a  race-course.     I  saw  the  spot  where 


JR.  257 

lie  fell,  and  passed  on  to  the  bank,  up  which  he  led  his  troops  ; 
clambered  down  the  steep ;  and,  coming  to  the  water's  edge, 
entered  the  lower  city  ov^r  the  spot  at  which  Montgomery  fell. 
It  seems  to  me  that  his  was  a  most  insane  expedition.  I  do 
not  see  how  it  is  possible  for  any  troops  to  force  a  way  into 
Quebec.  I  then  took  the  ferry  across  the  river  to  Point  Levi, 
which  affords  the  finest  view  of  the  city ;  and,  after  staying 
half  an  hour  returned,  traversed  the  whole  length  of  the  lower 
town,  and  got  home  at  half  past  two.  Took  a  nap  and  went 
out  again  over  some  portions  of  the  fortifications  which  I  had 
not  seen  ;  returned  to  dinner  at  five  ;  at  seven  attended  for  an 
hour  the  meeting  of  the  Wesleyan  Missionary  Society ;  took 
tea  at  half  past  eight,  and  am  now  in  my  room  just  fit  to 
think  of  home  and  go  to  sleep,  while  the  music  from  the  bar- 
racks is  just  far  enough  ofi'  to  soothe  me.  To-morrow  I  hope 
to  visit  the  Falls  of  Montmorenci,  the  citadel,  and  the  armory, 
and  in  the  evening  start  for  Montreal.  I  must  tell  you  what 
affected  me  a  great  deal  this  evening.  I  went  to  the  Wes- 
leyan chapel  at  six,  thinking  it  the  time  of  meeting.  The 
candles  were  lighted,  the  house  was  empty,  and  I  saw  in  an 
obscure  corner  a  soldier  with  his  cap  off',  kneeling  down  at  his 
devotions.  I  could  not  help  contrasting  it  with  the  probable 
employment  of  a  great  majority  of  the  garrison,  who  are  so 
peculiarly  exposed  to  temptation  and  dissipation. 

"  Wednesday  Afternoon. — On  board  steamboat  John  Mol- 
son ;  none  of  them  to  be  compared  to  ours ;  less  neat  and 
orderly.  Yesterday's  visit  to  the  Falls  was  a  failure  ;  I  mis- 
sed my  road  and  came  away  without  seeing  them.  However, 
I  had  a  pleasant  ride;— on  the  whole  a  very  pleasant  visit, 
though  1  have  seen  less  of  the  inside  than  I  might  have  done 
under  other  circumstances.  The  new  fortifications  of  Quebec, 
which  are  very  astonishing,  I  regret  not  being  allowed  to  visit, 
and  some  of  the  religious  houses  I  would  like  to  have  seen. 
But  I  shall  never  despair  of  coming  again.  Take  it  for  all 
in  all,  the  situation  and  vicinity  are  more  charming  than  any 
22* 


258  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

spot  I  have  known.  As  to  an  army  taking  it,  it  seems  to  be 
impossible  ;  and,  as  to  a  blockade,  there  are  always  kept  on 
hand  two  years'  provision  for  twenty  thousand  men,  so  that 
the  place  cannot  be  starved.  But,  if  I  see  it  again,  you  shall 
be  with  me. 

"  Sandy  Hill,  Sunday,  Sept.  21.— Only 

consider  that  I  am  now  three  hundred  and  twenty-three  miles 
on  my  return,  and  so  much  nearer  home  than  on  last  Sunday. 
In  about  ten  days  I  shall  be  with  you,  unless  things  change  ; 
and,  in  reasoning  about  the  matter,  I  am  really  at  a  loss  to 
know  what  would  be  best.  I  feel  able  to  be  doing  something, 
and  I  know  there  is  something  to  be  done  in  the  parish  which 
I  can  do.     I  do  not  doubt  that  I  might  now  preach  half  the 

time  without  danger It  is  very  desirable  to 

be  near  enough  to  the  people  to  attend  to  their  affairs,  and 
show  them  some  s^nnpathy,  and  seem  to  be  caring  for  them. 
I  really  see  no  cause  why  I  may  not  do  it  now ;  and  I  will 
promise  to  preach  only  one  half  the  time  and  to  be  extremely 
prudent 

"  The  preaching  in  this  village, — a  pretty  large  and  hand- 
some one, — is  by  Methodists  and  Presbyterians  alternately. 
To-day  was  the  Methodists',  and  I  have  been  quite  gratified 
by  two  good  sermons,  in  a  very  plain,  energetic,  affectionate 
manner;  in  the  morning,  on  the  value  of  the  soul  and  the 
danger  of  neglecting  it ;  in  the  afternoon,  on  the  character 
and  security  of  the  disciples  of  Christ.  It  was  a  pleasant 
day,  even  to  the  nasal  psalmody  which  vented  itself  in  the 
ancient  fuguing  tunes  of  my  boyhood.  We  have  a  talkative, 
inquisitive  woman  from  Boston  here,  who  thrust  herself  on 
me  to  wait  upon  her  to  church.  She  inquired  of  a  boarder 
on  her  return,  why  he  did  not  go.  He  replied,  that  he  did 
not  like  to  hear  the  Deity  abused,  and  he  heard  him  worse 
abused  in  the  pulpit  than  by  any  mob  on  the  Common ; — they 
attributed  to  Him  their  malice,  revenge,  selfishness,  and  many 
gross  vices.     This  led  to  further  conversation;   and  it  soon 


JR.  259 

appeared,  that,  though  he  had  heard  enough  to  justify  him  in 
this,  yet  he  knew  nothing  as  he  should  do,  for  he  quoted  some 
of  the  most  offensive  sayings  of  Calvinism  as  parts  of  the 
Bible.  When  I  assured  him  they  were  not,  he  said  he 
thought  they  were,  and  left  the  room.  Yet  he  was  setting  up 
for  a  champion  of  the  Divine  Character  !  I  had  quite  a  pleas- 
'ant  talk  with  a  Methodist  and  his  wife,  on  board  the  boat,  who, 
finding  I  was  a  Unitarian,  from  Boston,  were  very  anxious  to 
learn  the  nature  and  quality  of  my  faith.  He  appeared  very 
kindly  disposed,  listened  candidly,  and,  when  I  offered  him 
some  tracts,  promised  to  read  them  carefully,  which  I  doubt 
not  he  will  do.  This  woman,  whom  I  have  just  mentioned 
as  boarding  here,  has  done  her  prettiest  to  find  out  who  I  am. 
She  asked  where  I  did  business,  and  at  last,  when  she  could 
hold  out  no  longer,  asked  plainly  my  name.  However,  I  chose 
to  evade  her ;  but  she  is  sure  she  has  seen  me  somewhere. 
She  is  quite  an  original,  and  amuses  me  much.  She  has  just 
offered  to  wait  on  me  to  the  Falls,  and  it  will  require  some 
generalship  to  get  rid  of  her.  After  the  bustle  and  hurry  of 
the  last  ten  days,  I  greatly  enjoy  this  quiet  retirement.  I  hope 
you  enjoy  the  day  too.     Peace  be  with  you. 

"  Stillwater y  N.  Y.,  Sept.  22.  Monday  Evening.— Mary 
tells  me  that  you  have  sent  to  me  at  Montreal ;  which  letter, 
as  I  shall  not  receive  it,  there  is  more  need  that  I  acknowl- 
edge. You  will  have  learned,  that  I  hurried  on  my  way 
through  Canada,  and  am  hastening  home,  having  gained 
daily,  I  think,  in  strength,  and  being  not  far  from  my  usual 
state  of  health,  excepting  a  considerable  and  not  diminishing 
expectoration,  and  an  aptness  for  hoarseness, — my  voice,  I 
think,  not  clear  at  any  time.  I  have  tried  my  strength  in 
running  over  the  Saratoga  battle-ground, — with  a  good  deal 
of  interest,  but  not  entire  satisfaction.  The  truth  is,  that  the 
ground  is  so  extensive  that  it  would  require  several  long  visits 
to  acquaint  one's  self  with  the  several  localities,  and  fairly 
understand  the  matter.     And,  besides,  the  old  guide,  a  man  of 


260  LIFE    OF    HENFvY    WARE,    JR. 

eighty-four,  who  was  in  the  battle,  states  things  very  confus- 
edly, and  does  little  to  help  you  make  out  the  very  distinct 
account  of  Wilkinson  ;  sometimes  he  contradicts  it.  But  even 
the  general  idea  I  have  brought  away,  of  the  form  of  the  ground 
and  of  the  position  of  the  armies,  is  something.  We  (namely, 
I,  Mr.  Cornelius,  lately  of  Salem,  and  Dr.  Parker,  of  the  Brit- 
ish army,  who  happened  on  the  ground)  all  went  first  to  the 
British  lines,  which,  beginning  at  the  River  Hudson,  may  be 
traced  through  the  meadows  up  the  hill,  and  two  miles  into 
the  interior.  The  American  lines  w^ere  just  opposite,  and  may 
also  be  traced  for  the  same  distance.  These  we  did  not  visit, 
as  the  battle  occurred  on  the  British  line.  We  then  w^ent  to 
the  head-quarters  of  Burgoyne,  a  house  of  one  story  and  only 
two  rooms.  There  we  saw  where  General  Frazer  died,  the 
very  spot ;  and  all  the  circumstances  of  that  pathetic  scene, 
as  described  by  Madame  Riedesel,  were  realized  before  us  at 
once.  This  w^as  near  the  edge  of  the  river,  two  miles  from 
the  scene  of  conflict,  (which  was  at  the  extreme  British  right,) 
but  exposed  to  the  fire  of  the  American  party,  stationed  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river.  In  front  of  the  house  was  a  steep  hill, 
and  on  the  top  of  it  a  redoubt,  in  which  Frazer  requested  to 
be  buried,  and  where  he  was  buried  at  about  dark,  during  the 
heat  of  the  engagement,  and  where  the  funeral  procession  was 
fired  upon,  as  it  went  up  the  hill,  and  while  the  service  was 
reading  at  the  grave.  The  place  is  easily  distinguished,  and  I 
went  to  it.  A  most  beautiful  prospect  presents  itself ;  the  river, 
the  fertile  meadows,  the  hill  beyond,  and  the  canal  winding  at 
your  feet, — all  these,  joined  to  associations  of  the  place,  made 
it  one  of  the  most  interesting  spots  I  have  ever  stood  upon. 
Indeed,  I  scarcely  know  any  scene  so  touching,  so  pathetically 
and  poetically  striking,  as  that  of  Frazer's  funeral, — and  a 
rare  subject  for  either  the  painter  or  the  poet.  And  yet  an 
artist  must  fall  short  of  the  effect  produced  by  the  simple,  aid- 
less narrative  of  Madame  Riedesel.  I  have  been  reminded 
to-day  of  what  I  have  often  thought,  how  excellent  it  would 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  261 

have  been,  if  Byron  had  travelled  over  these  places  and  given 
us  a  Canto  of  Childe  Harold.  The  whole  route  of  the  fash- 
ionable tour  is  full  of  poetical  subjects.  What  would  he  not 
do  with  Niagara,  Trenton,  Quebec,  the  Plains  of  Abraham, 
West  Point,  Saratoga  ?  and  the  funeral  of  Frazer  would  have 
given  birth  to  one  of  the  most  beautiful  productions  of  his 
pen, — a  subject  just  suited  to  him.  Anybody,  who  can  write 
poetry,  cannot  do  better. 

"  Waierford,  N.  Y.,  Tuesday  Evening,  Sept.  23.— My 
Monday's  ride  was  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  and  cheek  by 
jowl  with  the  Champlain  Canal,  but  there  is  nothing  interest- 
ing or  beautiful  in  the  scenery.  Some  places  of  antiquarian 
interest  I  passed,  as  Fort  Edward,  and  the  tree  beneath  which 
Miss  McCrea  was  murdered.  My  object  was  to  reach  the 
Saratoga  battle-ground,  twenty-five  miles,  in  time  to  traverse 
it ;  which,  as  you  have  learned  by  my  letter  to  John,  I  effect- 
ed ;  and  you  may  judge  a  little  of  my  strength  by  my  being 
able  to  walk  and  ride,  mostly  walk,  over  rough  ground  for 
four  hours  after  such  a  ride,  and  then  spend  the  evening  till 
after  nine  in  writing.  It  is  very  singular,  that  I  should  have 
made  this  visit  with  Cornelius,  and  that  we  should  not  have 
detected  each  other  till  just  before  we  parted.  He  tells  me, 
that  I  bear  a  striking  resemblance  to  Parsons,  the  missionary. 
Truly  mine  must  be  a  most  accommodating  face.  Last  week 
I  was  taken  for  Hoffman,  the  Baltimore  lawyer.  I  came  near 
being  hurt  during  this  excursion.  My  horse,  who  sometimes 
stumbles,  came  upon  his  knees,  while  going  rapidly ;  but, 
thanks  to  my  excellent  horsemanship,  in  which  I  seem  to 
outdo  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  I  kept  my  seat  and  remained 
unhurt. 

"  This  morning  (23d)  I  went  round,  about  eight  miles,  in 
order  to  see  the  great  aqueduct  by  which  the  canal  passes  over 
the  Mohawk,  well  worth  seeing,  and  the  Cohoes  Falls,  which 
are  very  beautiful ;  distinguished  from  all  other  Falls  in  this, 
that  the  water  touches  the  rock  during  all  its  descent,  and  is 


262  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

a   brilliant,  broken  cataract  of  white  foam,  not  rushing  nor  ■ 
dashing,  but  quietly  and  majestically  rolling  down  the  steep. 
I  believe  the  height  is  about  eighty  feet.     There  is  very  little 
water  now,  and  there  is  a  beauty  quite  unique  in  the  thing. 

"  Friday  Afternoon^  New  York. — Never  take  a  man's  word 
for  it  that  he  keeps  a  first-rate  house,  etc.  I  went  to  Water- 
ford,  Tuesday,  in  such  a  simplicity  of  faith,  and  very  much 
because  the  fellow  advertised  a  Reading-room,  with  papers 
from  every  part  of  the  country,  and  I  longed  to  see  some  from 
Boston.  But,  alas  !  his  Reading-room  was  shut ;  the  house 
big,  full  of  pretension  and  discomfort ;  and  I  was  put  to  bed 
with  two  companions,  both  of  whom  were  so  troublesome, 
that  I  killed  them  before  morning.  On  Wednesday,  I  went 
to  Albany,  through  Lansingburgh  and  Troy,  and  yesterday  the 
boat  put  me  in  here. 

'' New  York,  Sunday,  Sejytember  27. —  ....  I  shall 
be  at  home  Tuesday  forenoon,  and  could  jump  for  gladness  at 
the  very  thought.  It  is  quite  time  that  I  were  there,  if  I  may 
judge  by  my  feelings  ;  and  I  long  to  see  for  myself  how  you 
do,  and  just  what  progress  you  have  made,  and  to  show  my 
acquisitions  to  you.  I  think  you  will  be  satisfied  with  them, 
and  I  do  most  earnestly  hope  and  pray  that  I  may  not  be  for- 
bidden to  preach  immediately.  If  I  am,  I  cannot  stay  in  Bos- 
ton. I  cannot  live  there,  appearing  well,  as  I  certainly  do, 
and  yet  do  nothing.  I  must  either  go  another  journey  or  take 
a  dismission 

"Dr.  Flagg  was  at  church  this  morning,  and  brought  me 
later  news  from  you  than  I  have  heard.  He  says  I  never 
looked  better.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  how  I  long  to  be  with 
you.  Home,  home,  home  !  a  blessed  place  !  but  there  are  no 
words  to  tell  how  precious.  Heaven  keep  you  well,  and  give 
us  a  happy  meeting. 

''Tuesday,    September   30.— The    storm 

detained  me  yesterday  (at  New  York)  and  I  have  had  thus, 
by  compulsion,  a  charming  long  visit,  and  enjoyed  it  very 


LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  263 

highly.     To-day  has  been  perfect,  and  I  have  ridden  twenty- 
eight  miles,  to  Sawpitts,  a  poor  little  village." 

^^  October  1. — Twenty-eight  miles  to-day,  to  Fairfield,  rather 
a  large  and  pleasant  village,  which  I  reached,  by  my  good 
star,  just  at  five  o'clock,  and  at  the  moment  when  a  violent 
storm  began.  It  threatens  a  long  rain,  whereat  I  shall  be 
sadly  impatient;  and  nothing  else,  I  think,  can  prevent  my 
being  home  next  Wednesday.  I  found  yesterday,  at  New 
Rochelle,  in  a  charming  house  where  I  dined,  and  where  the 
daughter's  piano  and  album  gave  token  of  education,  and  the 
landlady's  manners  were  lady-like  and  polite,  the  '  Life  of 
John  Urquhar '  and  his  writings.  I  ran  over  them  with  great 
interest.  He  died  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  having  already 
devoted  himself  to  the  missionary  cause.  A  most  extraordi- 
nary mind,  and  a  most  excellent  character.  He  seems  to 
have  possessed  the  maturity  of  intellect  and  of  goodness  which 
belong  to  fifty  years.  To-day  I  met,  at  Norwalk,  the  '  Me- 
moirs and  Writings  of  Carlos  Wilcox,'  a  Connecticut  minister 
of  just  my  age,  who  died  a  year  ago ;  a  poet,  who  lived  for 
his  imagination,  and  struggled  with  ill  health  and  worse  spirits 
for  years.  Perhaps  you  have  seen  his  *  Age  of  Benevolence' 
— rather  a  mediocre  poem,  but  the  man's  whole  soul  was 
given  to  it,  and  his  character  and  letters  are  very  interest- 
ing." 

"  October  2, 

[the  birth-day  of  his  wife.] 
*'  *  The  dawn  is  overcast,  the  morning  lowers, 
And  heavily  in  clouds  brings  on  the  day ;' 
The  roads  are  miry  with  continued  showers, 

And  rain  and  mud  deter  me  from  my  way ; 
And  yet  to  me  it  all  looks  fair  and  bright, 
For  on  this  day  my  Mary  saw  the  light. 

*'  Many  returns  to  you  of  this  sweet  day, 

And  each  return  more  happy  than  the  last ; 


264  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 


Peace  to  your  heart,  as  thoughtful  you  survey 
The  various  fortunes  of  the  chequered  past ; 
And  bright  and  glorious  be  the  visions  given, 
That  clothe  your  couiing  years  in  hues  of  heaven.'* 


END   OP  VOLUME   I. 


MEMOIR 


LIFE  OF  HENRY  WARE,  Jr. 

BY    HIS    BROTHER, 

JOHN  WARE,  M.  D. 


N     TWO     VOLUMES. 
TOIi.    II. 


NEW    EDITION. 


BOSTON: 

JAMES    MUNROE    AND    COMPANY. 

LONDON: 

CHAPMAN,    BROTHERS. 

1  854. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  Year  1S4G,  by  Mary  L. 
Ware,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massa- 
chusetts. 


Steieolvped    by 

GEORGE    A.    CURTIS; 

NEW  ENGLAND  TYPE  AND  STEREOTYPE  FOUNDERY. 


CONTENTS 

OF    THE    SECOND    VOLUME. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Improved  Health — Renewed  Attack  of  Disease — Continued  Indis- 
position— Passes  a  Winter  inBrookline — Proposes  to  resign  his 
Pastoral  Charge — Ordination  of  a  Colleague — Election  as  Pro- 
fessor at  Cambridge 5 

CHAPTER    XV. 

Letters  on  his  Passage  to  Europe  —  Arrival  in  Liverpool — Visit  to 
Mr.  Roscoe  — ToMrs.  Hemans— To  Mr.  Maury— Visit  to  Man- 
chester—  To  the  Leasowes — Preaching  of  Robert  Hall — Paint- 
ings at  Burleigh  House — Visit  to  Wordsworth — Southey — Ire- 
land—  Miss  Edgeworth  —  Holland — Passage  up  the  Rhine  — 
Mass  in  the  Cathedral  at  Strasburg — Geneva — Intemperance 
from  Wine — Treading  the  Wine-Press  —  Cardinal  Mezzofanti — 
Florence  —  Statuary — Paintings  —  Letters  from  Rome — Coli- 
seum by  Moonlight — Raffaelle's  Chambers — Holy  Week  and 
Singing  the  Miserere — Greenough  and  Thorwaldsen — State  of 
his  Health 32 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

Separation  from  his  Parish  —  Entrance  on  his  Professorship  —  State 
of  the  Divinity  School  —  Introductory  Address  —  Nature  of  his 
Duties  and  his  Mode  of  Instruction  —  Tract  on  "The  Formation 
of  the  Christian  Character"  —  He  resumes  Preaching — Excursion 
to  the  White  Hills  — Sickness  at  Concord,  N.  H.      .      .      .      .    88 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

Publication  of  the  "  Sunday  Library"  —  His ''Life  of  the  Saviour"  — 
'•'  Scenes  and  Characters  illustrating  Christian  Truth"  —  Sickness 
in  1833  —Letter  to  Mr.  Robbins  —  Prepares  a ''  Memoir  of  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Parker"  —  His  Connexion  with  the  Anti-Slavery  Cause  —  His 
true  Position  with  regard  to  it — Letters  relating  to  it.     .      .      .  127 


IV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Publishes  a  Selection  from  the  Writings,  with  "  The  Life  and  Char- 
acter," of  Dr.  Priestley  —  Limited  Supply  of  Ministers,  and  Plan 
for  their  Increase  —  Family  Meeting  at  his  Father's  —  Religious 
Exercises  with  the  Undergraduates  —  ''Sober  Thoughts  on  the 
State  of  the  Times"  —  Severe  Illness  in  the  Winter  of  1836  —  His 
Occupations  during  it  —  Affection,  and  Loss  of  the  Use,  of  his  Eyes.  156 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

Exertions  in  Aid  of  Poor  and  Destitute  Societies  —  New  Duties  at 
the  University  —  He  projects  a  Course  of  Lectures  on  ''  The  Poetry 
of  Science"  —  Preaches  the  Convention  Sermon  —  Sermon  on  the 
Cilley  Duel— Death  of  his  Sister,  Mrs.  Hall 173 

CHAPTER    XX. 

Discourse  of  Mr.  Emerson  before  the  Divinity  School  —  Mr.  Ware's 
Correspondence  with  him  —  Festii^al  at  Exeter  —  Resignation  of 
his  Colleague,  Dr.  Palfrey,  and  of  his  Father  —  State  of  the  School 

—  Efforts  for  its  Improvement  —  Letters  to  his  Son.        .      .      .  183 

CHAPTER    XXI. 

Decline  of  his  Health  —  Visit  to  New  York  —  Is  taken  ill  in  the  Pul- 
pit —  Returns  to  Cambridge  —  Continued  Indisposition  —  Resigns 
his  Professors-jp  —  Removes  to  Framingham  —  His  Condition  and 
Occupations  during  the  Autumn  and  Winter  of  1842-43  —  Letters.  202 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

Visit  to  Boston  —  Repeated  Attacks  of  Illness  there  —  He  returns  to 
Framingham  —  Journey  to  Plymouth,  Fall  River,  and  Providence 
.—  Improvement  after  his  Return  home  —  Is  seized  with  Apoplexy 

—  His  Condition  after  this  Attack  —  Death — Funeral.   .      .      ,231 

CHAPTER    XXIIL 
Notices  of  his  Character, 255 

Appendix, .  281 


LIFE  OF  HENRY  ¥ARE,  Jr. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

IMPROVED  HEALTH — RENEWED  ATTACK  OF  DISEASE — CONTINUED 
INDISPOSITION — PASSES  A  WINTER  IN  BROOKLINE— PROPOSES  TO 
RESIGN  HIS  PASTORAL  CHARGE  — ORDINATION  OF  A  COLLEAGUE — 
ELECTION    AS    PROFESSOR    AT    CAMBRIDGE. 

1828-29.    2£T.  34-35. 

Between  August  24th  and  October  4th  he  had  ridden 
eleven  hundred  and  seventy-eight  miles.  He  had  im- 
proved very  rapidly  and  steadily,  and,  at  the  last  date, 
arrived  at  the  house  of  his  friend,  the  Rev.  S.  J.  May, 
in  Brooklyn,  Connecticut,  Avhere  he  spent  the  ensuing 
day,  which  was  the  Sabbath,  and  whence  he  wrote  as 
follows  to  Mr.  Allen. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  have  heard  of  my  various  pilgrimages 
and  fortunes, — turns,  twists,  and  conveyances, — strides,  flights, 
and  Stumbles, — through  all  of  which,  adverse  and  prosperous, 
I  have  at  length  found  my  way  safely  to  this  port,  and  indite 
this  epistle  from  brother  May's  table.  Three  weeks  ago  to- 
night I  was  in  Quebec,  the  next  Sunday  at  Sandy  Hill,  and 
the  last  in  New  York,  where  I  spent  three  days,  and  was 
detained  a  fourth  by  rain.  I  have  come  through  Connecticut 
by  way  of  Middletown,  and  feeling  pretty  well,  ventured  to" 
preach  half  the  day,  of  course  extempore,  having  no  manu- 
script with  me.  I  held  forth  for  thirty-five  minutes  without 
any  considerable  inconvenience,  brother  May  doing  every- 
thing else.  I  am  pleased  to  have  tried  ;  as  I  must,  if  I  stay 
in  Boston,  preach  at  least  half  the  time.     I  feel  quite  well, 

VOL.  IL  1^ 


D  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

have  my  old  looks,  face  bro^vn  with  air,  and  whiskers  ;  flesh 
about  as  usual,  and  a  husky  voice.  As  to  my  plan  for  writing, 
which  I  spoke  of,  alas !  travelling  has  too  much  distraction  in 
it.  The  first  part  of  the  time  was  too  debilitating  from  heat, 
and  the  next  portion  too  busy  and  fatiguing  from  the  new  and 
strange  objects.  I  have  however  latterly  done  something,  and 
shall  bring  home  between  fifty  and  one  hundred  pages  of 
something ;  but  a  very  different  affair  it  proves  from  what  I 
intended.  Indeed,  I  have  been  unable  to  get  my  mind  back  to 
the  same  train  in  which  it  was,  and  have  less  confidence  in 
my  ability  to  do  the  work.  However,  I  shall  submit  it  to  you, 
and,  if  you  say  go  on,  I  will  not  flinch." 

Of  the  above-mentioned  visit  I  have  the  follow  notice 
in  a  letter  from  Mr.  May  to  Mrs.  Ware. 

"  Lexington,  February  15,  1845. 
"  His  letter  of  October  17th,  1S28,  brings  to  me  a  very  vivid 
recollection  of  the  delightful  visit  I  received  from  him  a  few 
days  before  the  date  of  that  letter,  on  his  return  from  his  long 
journey  on  horseback.  He  came  to  my  house  apparently  in 
good  health,  certainly  in  fine  spirits.  He  insisted  upon 
preaching  for  me.  He  did  so,  and  preached  a  most  impres- 
sive extempore  discourse  on  the  Beatitudes.  Both  his  ser- 
mon and  prayer  were  much  longer  than  he  intended  they 
should  be.  His  heart  was  so  full,  he  could  not  refrain  from 
pouring  out  his  thoughts  and  feelings  at  greater  length  than 
he  ought  to  have  done.  Still  he  did  not  appear  to  be  fatigued. 
We  kept  up  an  animated  conversation  until  after  eleven 
o'clock.  He  seemed  to  feel  sure  that  he  had  recovered  his 
health,  and  should  be  permitted  to  return  to  his  place,  and 
/abor  as  he  was  wont,  for  the  redemption  of  man.  He  detailed 
ro  me  his  plans  of  future  usefulness ;  and  talked  particularly 
of  several  books  he  hoped  soon  to  prepare  for  the  press;  I  am 
inclined  to  believe  that  the  plan  of  his  most  popular  work  on 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  7 

the  '  Formation  of  the  Christian  Character,'  was  definitely- 
conceived  that  evening. 

"  The  next  morning  he  proposed  to  take  my  chaise,  as  he 
was  impatient  to  reach  Boston  sooner  than  he  could  do  on 
horseback.  He  was  in  high  spirits,  was  sure  that  his  public 
speaking  the  day  before  had  done  him  no  injury,  and  again 
recurred  to  his  intended  work. 

"  It  was  in  October,  you  remember.  The  morning  was 
cold.  I  begged  him  to  take  my  great-coat,  but  he  would  not. 
'  His  spencer  would  be  enough.'  He  started  about  nine 
o'clock  to  ride  to  Providence,  thirty-one  miles. 

"  I  took  my  seat  by  his  side  in  the  chaise,  and  rode  seven 
or  eight  miles  with  him,  until  we  met  the  stage  coming  from 
Providence,  in  which  I  returned  to  Brooklyn." 

But  the  course  of  events  after  his  return  was  far  less 
favorable,  than  he  thus  sanguinely  anticipated;  and 
the  sudden  reverse  in  his  prospects  was  the  occasion  of 
one  of  the  hardest  trials  he  was  ever  called  on  to 
endure.  He  reached  home  on  Tuesday,  October  7th, 
but,  even  before  his  arrival,  had  experienced  symptoms 
of  serious  indisposition.  Ten  days  afterward,  October 
17th,  he  gives  to  Mr.  May  this  account  of  himself.  ''My 
preaching  for  you  was  not  so  innocent  a  procedure  as 
I  hoped.  On  Monday  evening  I  began  to  feel  an  incon- 
venience which  increased  during  Tuesday,  and  issued 
in  the  raising  of  blood  on  Wednesday  morning,  since 
which  I  have  been  confined  to  my  house, — blooded, 
blistered,  physicked,  with  other  troublesome  applica- 
tions. I  am  now  better,  and  to-day  shall  ride  out. 
This  of  course  changes  the  complexion  of  all  my  plans, 
and  I  am  not  yet  sure  that  1  shall  not  be  obliged  to 
pass  the  winter  in  another  climate.  You  may  easily 
believe,  that  I  feel  this  disappointment  not  a  little ;  and 


8  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

I  am  glad,  on  your  account,  that  I  have  nobody  to 
blame  for  my  imprudence  but  myself." 

It  was  supposed  at  the  time,  that  this  recurrence  of 
disease  was  mainly  owing  to  the  effort  made  in  preach- 
ing. Subsequent  observation  and  reflection,  on  his  case 
and  those  of  others,  has  led  me  to  doubt  whether  this 
view  of  his  relapse  were  perfectly  correct,  and,  in  gen- 
eral, whether  the  simple  act  of  preaching,  in  clergy- 
men laboring  imder  affections  of  the  lungs,  be  attended 
with  so  much  peril  as  is  commonly  supposed ;  whether 
it  be  so  often  the  principal  cause  of  disease  among 
them,  as  has  been  imagmed.  In  the  present  instance, 
although  the  exercise  of  preaching  was  undoubtedly 
injudicious,  and  probably  prejudicial,  yet  the  severity 
of  the  attack,  and  the  very  serious  consequences  which 
ensued,  may  with  more  probability  be  attributed  to  the 
fatigue  and  exposure  to  cold  and  wet,  which  he  under- 
went in  his  journey  home.  He  was  far  too  confident 
of  the  restored  condition  of  his  health,  to  exercise  due 
prudence  in  his  mode  of  travelling. 

But,  however  this  might  be,  the  result  was,  that,  al- 
though he  speedily  recovered  from  the  immediate  press- 
ure of  disease,  his  general  health  did  not  return,  he  did 
not  regain  his  strength;  his  whole  system,  and  espe- 
cially the  nervous  system,  was  left  in  a  very  prostrate 
and  unbalanced  condition.  From  this  he  gave  no  indi- 
cations of  rallying;  and  it  soon  became  obvious,  that 
there  was  no  immediate  prospect  of  his  return  to  his 
parochial  duties,  or  of  his  being  able  to  assume  those  of 
an  office  at  Cambridge.  Being  incapable  of  exertion  of 
any  kind,  it  was  judged  advisable  that  he  should,  for 
the  time,  be  placed  out  of  the  way  of  all  temptation  to 
it;  and  accordingly,  in  the  beginning  of  the  month  of 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  9 

November,  he  left  his  house  in  town,  and  took  up  his 
abode  in  BrookUne,  at  the  country-seat  of  his  friend, 
Mr.  Guild,  which  had  been  most  kindly  offered  to  him. 
Here  he  remained  through  this  winter,  by  no  means 
in  a  state  of  idleness,  but  quite  incapable  of  any  very 
serious  or  continued  exertion. 

On  the  5  th  of  November  he  writes : 

"  It  is  thought  best  that  we  leave  town,  and  Mr.  Guild  has 
very  kindly  offered  us  his  house  and  furniture,  and  we  go 
into  it  without  moving  our  household  stuff.  Much  love  to 
you,  and  I  pray  you  send  me  a  letter  once  in  a  while  to  help 
pass  away  my  idle  hours  ;  for,  being  so  retired  and  having  no 
occupation,  I  shall  need  the  word  of  friends  sometimes  to  help 
me  off  with  the  winter ;  and  1  have  reason  to  be  thankful  for 
the  many  and  constant  kindnesses  which  I  receive  from  them. 
I  sometimes  think  it  is  pleasant  to  be  sick,  for  the  sake  of 
feeling  and  knowing  how  much  goodness  there  is  both  in. 
heaven  and  earth." 

The  establishment  of  the  professorship  at  Cambridge 
was  still  a  matter  not  definitely  determined  upon,  and, 
although  there  was  no  reasonable  doubt  that  it  would 
be  instituted,  and  would  be  offered  to  Mr.  Ware,  no  offi- 
cial communication  had  been  made  with  regard  to  it. 
In  this  state  the  affair  remained  through  the  season. 
It  was  his  predominant  feelmg,  however,  that,  even 
independently  of  any  such  new  sphere  of  duty,  his 
health  would  probably  be,  in  future,  such  as  to  prevent 
his  continuing  his  duties  as  a  parish  clergyman.  He 
writes  to  Mr.  Allen,  November  23d : 

"  We  are  safely  at  home  in  Brookline,  having  abandoned 
our  house  in  Boston,  not  without  many  regrets  like  those 
of  Eve  on  leaving  Paradise.     I  cannot  realize  that  my  pas- 


10  LIFE   OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

toral  life  is  so  probably  ended,  and  that  I  shall  never  again 
preach  to  a  people  of  my  own.  I  assure  you  there  is  more 
melancholy  in  the  thing,  than  you  would  easily  believe ; 
and  a  quantity  of  self-reproach  for  opportunities  neglected 
rushes  upon  the  mind,  which  would  make  the  prospect  of  a 
future  account  dreadful  indeed,  if  we  could  not  look  to  a  mer- 
ciful as  well  as  righteous  Judge.  But  I  hope  yet  to  be  spared 
to  do  some  good  in  the  world.  My  place  in  Boston  I  think 
will  be  easily  supplied.  As  for  health,  I  have  improved  since 
I  saw  you.  I  find  the  freedom  of  the  country  very  favorable. 
I  use  a  great  deal  of  exercise,  and  begin  to  do  some  hard 
work  ;  but  I  am  not  yet  capable  of  much  mental  exertion." 

to  his  brother. 

"  December  25,  1828. 
"  Dear  John, 

*'  The  salutations  of  the  day  to  you.  I  have  been  exer- 
cised, as  you  may  well  suppose,  not  a  little,  by  the  peculiar 
situation  in  which  I  am  placed  wnth  regard  to  my  people.  I 
can  do  nothing  for  them  ;  I  probably  never  shall  do  anything 
more ;  they  must  have  another  minister.  This  should  be 
done  with  the  greatest  possible  unanimity ;  this  unanimity  is 
jeopardized  by  every  week's  delay;  nothing  prevents  their 
acting  but  my  being  with  them.  As  my  v.^ork  is  entirely 
done,  there  is  no  good  reason  w^hy  I  should  stay  with  them. 
I  have,  therefore,  made  up  my  mind,  that  I  ought  to  ask  a 
dismission  at  once,  and  next  Sunday,  being  the  close  of  my 
twelve  years,  is  a  fit  opportunity.  I  have  looked  at  the  thing 
fully,  I  believe,  on  all  sides,  and  see  no  good  reason  for  not 
doing  so.  I  only  wish  your  judgment  and  father's.  Pray 
think  of  it,  and  give  me  your  cool  opinion.  I  do  not  wish 
it  to  be  whispered,  however,  to  another  soul,  until  w'holly 
decided. 

"  It  must  come  to  this  at  last.     A  delay  v/ould  do  no  good  to 


LIFE   OF  HENRY  WARE,    JR.  11 

anybody,  and  I  think  loould  injjtre  the  Society.    Is  it  not  then 
a  plain  case  ? 

"  I  have  not  said  above,  what  is  true,  that  it  is  perfectly 
impossible  for  me  not  to  feel  oppressed  and  anxious  so  long  as 
I  know  there  is  a  great  deal  to  be  done  in  the  parish,  and 
nobody  doing  it.  If  I  were  free,  I  should  be  easy.  I  am 
sure,  that  what  I  have  done  the  last  two  weeks  has  affected 
me  unfavorably  ;  and  I  fancy  it  would  have  been  just  as  bad, 
if  I  had  thought  over  it  all  the  time,  and  not  done  it." 

In  accordance  with  the  resolution  here  expressed,  a 
communication  was  read  to  his  parish  on  the  next 
Lord's  day,  in  which  he  proposed  to  resign  his  pastoral 
charge.  As  furnishing  the  best  history  of  this  part  of 
his  connexion  with  his  Society,  and  illustrating  the 
mutual  feelings  which  had  grown  up  in  the  intercourse 
of  pastor  and  people  in  the  twelve  years  during  which 
this  relation  had  continued,  the  greater  part  of  the  sev- 
eral papers  concerning  the  transaction  are  here  inserted. 

"  To  the  Second  Church  and  Society  in  Boston. 

"  My  dear  Brethren  and  Friends, 

"  As  the  present  Sabbath  closes  the  twelfth  year  of  my  min- 
istry, I  have  deemed  it  a  suitable  occasion  for  making  a  com- 
munication which  the  state  of  our  affairs  seems  to  call  for. 

"It  is  now  seven  months,  since  it  pleased  Him  who  orders 
all  things,  to  take  me  suddenly  from  my  active  duties,  and 
suspend  my  intercourse  with  the  people  of  my  charge.  I  will 
not  dwell  upon  the  season  of  trial,  which,  severe  as  it  has  been, 
has  been  accompanied  by  many  striking  tokens  of  the  divine 
blessing,  and,  I  humbly  trust,  will  not  pass  without  profit  both 
to  you  and  myself.  I  had  hoped,  before  this  time,  to  be  able 
to  resume,  in  part  at  least,  the  discharge  of  my  office  ;  and  I 
have  recently  made  an  effort  to  engage  in  some  pastoral  cares, 


12  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

but  was  soon  compelled  to  relinquish  the  attempt.  I  am  per- 
fectly satisfied,  that  I  shall  be  unable  to  do  anything  for  you 
for  many  months ;  and  you  are  aware  that  circumstances 
exist,  which  render  it  possible  that  I  may  never  do  so. 

"  In  this  state  of  things,  I  have  anxiously  reflected  on  the 
situation  and  prospects  of  the  Society,  and  have  been  solicitous 
to  know  what  part  I  ought  to  act.  Is  it  my  duty,  feeble  and 
incapacitated  as  I  am,  to  keep  my  hold  upon  a  place  which 
needs  and  deserves  the  constant  labors  of  vigorous  health  ? 
Or  ought  I  not  to  withdraw  from  the  post,  since  God  has 
taken  from  me  the  power  of  doing  its  work  ?  These  ques- 
tions have  exercised  me  much  and  earnestly.  They  have 
agitated  my  mind  by  night  and  by  day.  And,  however  pain- 
ful the  result,  I  have  at  length  come  to  it  decidedly,  that  I 
ought  to  bring  the  subject  before  you,  and  ask  you  to  consider, 
whether,  in  the  circumstances  now  existing,  the  w'elfare  of 
the  Society  does  not  demand  that  our  connexion  should  be 
dissolved. 

"  So  long  as  the  present  state  of  things  continues,  you  are 
altogether  as  a  flock  without  a  shepherd.  And,  when  I  con- 
sider the  evils  that  must  inevitably  result  from  this,  and  to 
which  a  parish  so  situated  is  always  exposed ;  and  reflect,  too, 
that  very  probably  I  may  never  return  to  you  again,  I  feel  that 
I  ought  to  hesitate  no  longer.  I  ought  to  relieve  j'-ou  from  the 
uncertainty  and  trials  of  your  present  condition,  and  give  you 
the  opportunity  of  obtaining  a  more  efficient  ministry.  And 
I  ought  to  relieve  myself  from  solicitudes  and  cares  on  your 
behalf,  which  do  not  avail  to  your  benefit,  and  which  are  unfa- 
vorable to  my  restoration  to  strength. 

"Under  these  impressions,  I  do  now,  at  the  completion  of 
my  twelfth  year,  resign  my  office  into  your  hands,  and  ask 
that  our  connexion  may  cease  on  the  thirty-first  of  the  present 
month. 

"  In  doing  this,  I  perform  one  of  the  most  painful  acts  of  my 
life.     My  situation  has  been  one  of  many  privileges,  and  such 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  13 

as  perfectly  to  satisfy  every  wish  of  my  heart.  I  cannot  look 
back  upon  the  years  I  have  spent  amongst  you,  without  an 
expression  of  gratitude  for  the  happiness,  which,  as  a  minister, 
1  have  been  permitted  to  enjoy.  Other  men  may  have  labored 
more  faithfully  and  successfully ;  but  no  one  can  have  ever 
looked  back  on  twelve  years  of  a  happier  connexion.  The 
ties  which  I  have  formed  are  not  to  be  broken  without  a  pang, 
and  I  had  fondly  trusted  that  death  only  should  dissolve  them. 
But  the  few  last  months  have  changed  the  aspect  of  things. 
Their  experience  has  warned  me,  that  I  may  probably  never 
again  be  equal  to  the  labor  of  much  public  speaking,  and  that, 
having  become  useless  in  my  present  situation,  I  must  consent 
to  relinquish  it.  Meantime,  you  need  an  active  pastor ;  and 
I  trust  and  pray,  that  you  may  soon  be  united  on  one  who 
shall  do  more  and  better  for  you  than  I  have  done,  though  he 
never  can  feel  toward  you  more  than  I  have  felt. 

"  Brethren,  I  commend  you  affectionately,  with  all  your 
present  and  future  interests,  to  the  favor  and  blessing  of 
Almighty  God. 

"  Your  friend  and  pastor, 

"  Henry  Ware,  Jr. 

«  BrooUine,  December  27,  1828." 

report. 

"  The  Committee  to  whom  was  committed  the  communica- 
tion of  the  Pastor  of  the  Second  Church  and  Society,  read  on 
the  28th  of  December,  182S,  have  deliberated  on  the  subject 
and  beg  leave  to  submit  the  following  Report. 

"  It  having  pleased  God,  in  his  afflictive  providence,  to  stay 
our  Pastor  in  his  course,  by  visiting  him  with  severe  sickness, 
and  depriving  him  of  his  strength,  so  that,  for  many  months, 
he  has  been  unable  to  minister  at  the  altar,  or  teach  and  guide 
his  flock,  he  has  been  led,  after  anxious  deliberation,  to  resign 
the  office  he  has  held,  and  ask  that  the  connexion  between 
us  may  cease. 

VOL.  II.  2 


14  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

"  The  solemn  question  is  then  before  us,  Shall  we  accede  to 
this  proposal,  and  consent  that  the  connexion  between  us  and 
him  shall  be  dissolved  ? 

"  He  tells  us,  that  he  is  no  longer  able  to  fulfil  his  duties 
towards  us,  that  he  has  attempted  to  perform  some  part  of 
them  and  his  strength  has  failed  him,  that  he  sees  us  as  sheep 
•without  a  shepherd,  that  he  is,  by  night  and  day,  anxious  on 
our  account,  while  his  anxiety  avails  not  to  our  benefit,  and 
only  adds  strength  to  his  own  disease. 

"  We  know  his  character  and  feelings.  We  understand 
what  he  refers  to,  when  he  speaks  of  duties  he  is  no  longer 
able  to  perform.  We  have  had  him  before  us  for  twelve 
years,  and  we  cannot  soon  forget  the  example  he  has  set  of 
the  pastoral  character. 

"  He,  indeed,  hears  instruction  given  us,  and  prayers  offered 
for  us,  on  the  Sabbath.  But  he  asks  in  vain,  as  we  ask  in 
vain,  Who  fills  his  place  in  the  chamber  of  the  sick,  by  the 
bed  of  the  dying,  and  in  the  house  of  the  poor,  the  widow,  and 
the  fatherless  ?  Who  is  there  to  go  about,  as  he  did,  doing 
good  among  our  families,  rejoicing  with  those  who  rejoice, 
and  sharing  the  sorrows  of  those  who  weep,  bringing  to  our 
firesides  and  to  our  domestic  circles  an  example  of  the  Chris- 
tian life,  and  showing  to  all  what  a  cheerful  and  blessed  thing 
it  is  to  be  religious  after  the  religion  of  the  Gospel. 

"  AVhile  these  offices  are  not  performed,  we,  who  know  our 
Pastor's  sense  of  their  importance,  cannot  be  surprised  that  his 
solicitude  on  our  account  should  be  unfavorable  to  the  restora- 
tion of  his  strength. 

"  He  speaks  of  the  happiness  of  his  connexion  with  us  for 
twelve  years,  and  of  the  ties  which  he  had  hoped  that  death 
only  should  dissolve.  We  can  bear  our  testimony  to  the  faith- 
fulness and  success  of  his  labors  during  that  period,  and  feel 
that  these  ties  are  as  binding  upon  each  one  of  us  as  upon  him. 

"  For  twelve  years  he  has  given  his  strength,  his  time,  his 
pv'wers  of  mind  and  of  body,  by  night  and  by  day,  to  us.     We 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,  JR.  15 

believe,  that,  in  sincerity,  in  fidelity,  in  constancy  and  disin- 
terestedness, his  services  have  been  without  example.  He 
has  always  cared  for  us,  for  our  families,  and  for  our  children, 
more  than  for  himself.  He  has  spared  himself  no  trouble  ;  he 
has  omitted  no  occasion  of  doing  us  good.  He  has  worn  him- 
self out  in  our  service.  And  now,  when  his  health  is  gone 
and  his  strength  has  failed,  he  comes  to  render  back  his  office 
into  our  hands,  and  asks  to  depart  in  peace,  that,  as  he  can  do 
no  more  for  us,  he  may  not  come  between  us  and  our  welfare, 
and  we  may  be  relieved  from  the  burden  of  his  support. 

"  In  this  state  of  things,  we  believe  we  give  utterance  to  the 
single  and  universal  feeling  of  his  people  when  we  say,  that 
we  cannot  consent  to  the  separation.  '  We  are  not  yet  willing 
to  give  Mr.  Ware  up.'  We  therefore  unanimously  recom- 
mend, that  our  Pastor  be  desired  to  remain  with  us  ;  and  that 
measures  be  taken  for  the  choice  of  some  person  of  piety  and 
ability,  on  whom  we  may  unite,  to  be  his  colleague ;  to  assist 
him  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties,  and  share  with  him  the 
burdens  of  his  office. 

"  This  sentiment  was  strongly  and  repeatedly  expressed, 
when  the  letter  from  our  Pastor  was  read.  '  We  are  not  yet 
willing  to  give  Mr.  Ware  up,'  was  said  by  some  of  his  oldest 
and  most  constant  friends,  and  was  responded  to  by  the  hearts 
of  all  present. 

"  We  are  willing  to  wait  until  it  may  please  Him,  who  has 
deprived  him  of  health,  to  restore  it. 

"  We  are  aware  that  there  is  danger,  as  he  himself  tells  us, 
that  he  may  never  again  be  equal  to  the  labor  of  much  public 
speaking.  If  that  should  prove  to  be  the  event,  or  he  should 
be  called,  in  the  Providence  of  God,  to  a  situation  in  which  his 
talents,  character,  and  example  may  be  of  higher  good  to  the 
great  cause  to  which  his  life  has  been  consecrated,  then,  and 
not  till  then,  shall  we  consent  to  bid  farewell  to  such  a  friend, 
as  we  may  never  meet  again."     .     .     .     .    '. 

<'  All  which  is  respectfully  submitted  by  your  committee. 
"  P.  Mackintosh,  Jr.,  Chairman." 


16  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE,    JR. 

"  To  the   Standing   Committee  of  the    Second   Church  and 
Societij  in  Boston. 

"  Gentlemen, 

"  Having  received  from  you  a  report  of  the  proceedings  of 
the  Society  in  relation  to  my  communication  of  the  27th  of 
December,  I  beg  leave  to  transmit  through  you  my  reply. 

"  The  Society  has  been  pleased,  instead  of  consenting  that 
our  connexion  shall  be  dissolved,  to  request  that  I  would  still 
retain  my  place,  and  allow  them  to  appoint  a  Colleague  Pas- 
tor, who  shall  take  upon  himself  the  active  duties  of  the  min- 
isterial office. 

"  The  manner,  in  which  this  measure  has  been  proposed,  is 
so  full  of  kindness  towards  myself,  that  I  cannot  refrain  from 
expressing  the  grateful  feelings  it  has  excited ;  and  I  am  anx- 
ious to  do  what  shall  convince  the  Society,  that  I  fully  appre- 
ciate the  spirit  in  which  they  have  acted.  In  order  to  learn 
whether  I  ought  to  accede  to  their  proposal,  I  have  again  con- 
sidered the  reasons  which  had  induced  me  to  ask  a  dismission 
from  my  charge.  These  were  principally,  that,  under  the 
present  situation  of  affairs,  the  Society  is  suffering  all  the 
inconveniences  of  a  destitute  condition,  and  that  my  continu- 
ance in  the  office  serves  to  prevent  the  remedy  by  the  settle- 
ment of  an  able  minister,  without  doing  anything  to  advance 
my  recovery.  But  I  perceive  that  the  measure  now  proposed 
will  effect  the  beneficial  objects  which  I  had  in  view,  and  I 
therefore  gladly  and  gratefully  assent  to  it.  I  can  imagine  no 
objection  to  it,  except  that  it  will  do  nothing  to  relieve  the 
pecuniary  burdens  of  the  Society.  But  this  may  be  readily 
obviated,  as  I  shall,  of  course,  relinquish  a  certain  portion  of 
my  salary  on  the  settlement  of  another  minister.  I  trust, 
therefore,  that  this  happy  event  may  be  speedily  accomplished. 
I  shall  rejoice  to  be  thus  spared  the  pain  of  suddenly  breaking 
the  bond  that  united  me  to  you,  and  to  be  permitted,  if  I  must 
withdraw  at  last,  to  do  it  gradually.     In  the  mean  time,  I  am 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE   JR.  17 

happy  in  the  belief,  that  Providence  has  been  kindly  preparing 
the  way  for  your  continued  prosperity,  and  that  you  will  read- 
ily unite  on  one,  who  is  every  way  fitted  to  answer  the  rea- 
sonable expectations  of  a  faithful  and  affectionate  people. 
"  I  am,  Gentlemen,  affectionately, 

"  Your  friend  and  pastor, 

"Henry  Ware,  Jr. 
"  Brookline,  January  9,  1829." 

On  the  11th  of  January  Mr.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson, 
who  had  for  some  time  supplied  the  pulpit  of  the  Sec- 
ond Church  with  much  acceptance,  was  elected  Col- 
league Pastor,  in  conformity  with  the  recommendation 
contauied  in  the  report  of  the  Committee,  and  was 
ordained  on  the  11th  of  March. 

Some  of  Mr.  Ware's  letters  written  during  the  remain- 
der of  this  season,  will  give  a  sufficient  account  of  his 
condition  and  his  occupations  while  at  Brookline,  of  the 
plans  which  he  formed  for  the  spring,  and  of  the  cir- 
cumstances which  ultimately  determuied  his  desti- 
nation. 

TO  MRS.  E.  B.  HALL. 

"  Brookline,  December  23,  1828. 

"  I  creep  along  so,  so,  am  stouter  than  I  was  a  month  ago, 
and,  with  occasional  vacillations,  make  head  way  on  the 
whole.  I  sometimes  get  nervous  and  cross,  and  am  capable 
of  very  little  close  application  of  mind ;  but  I  read  some  and 
think  more,  and  have  built  some  of  the  finest  castles,  and  pro- 
jected some  of  the  most  splendid  works,  that  air  or  earth  ever 
knew.  But,  alas  !  of  what  use  ?  All  I  can  do  is  to  eat  and 
drink  and  sleep,  and  wait  and  hope.  I  trust  you  are  more 
actively  employed,  and  busy  now  in  works  of  usefulness, 
before  the  evil  days  come  and  the  years  draw  nigh,  in  which 
you  shall  say,  you  are  able  to  do  nothing*    This  brings  me 

VOL.  n.  2* 


18  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

to  the  three  heads  of  ihe  epistle  I  promised  you, — a  very  Cer- 
berus, you  will  say.  Well,  never  was  a  fitter  time  for  the 
barking  of  the  beast  that  keeps  the  portal  of  the  unseen  state  ; 
for  you  will  receive  it  just  between  your  birth-day  and  the  new 
year.     Pardon  this  confusion  of  figures. 

"  As  there  is  no  natural  connexion  between  the  three  afore- 
said heads  or  topics,  I  hardly  know  which  to  begin  with. 
Proximity  of  time,  however,  suggests  that  Avhich  you  sug- 
gested to  me  when  I  last  saw  you,  and  when  I  was  just  weak 
enough  in  body  and  mind  to  have  it  worry  me,  and  keep  buz- 
zing in  my  thought,  like  one  of  the  flies  that  Cowper  com- 
plained of.  (By  the  way,  if  you  never  have  read  the  last 
volume  of  his  Letters,  you  have  a  great  treat  before  you.) 
You  were  saying  then,  you  may  remember,  and  Lucy  amazed 
me  by  joining  you,  that  you  never  would  ride  down  hills 
again  with  an  infant,  but  would  get  out  and  walk.  Now  I 
beg  you  to  consider,  whether  you  would  be  any  safer  in  so 
doing,  and  whether  also  you  have  any  right  to  do  so.  Are 
not  you  just  as  likely  to  stumble  and  fall  as  the  horse  ?  Re- 
member, that,  in  riding  with  your  child,  you  are  either  doing 
right  or  wrong.  If  wrong,  stay  at  home.  If  right,  then  you 
have  no  right  to  quit  the  ordinary  mode  of  conveyance  and 
seek  another,  because,  by  so  doing,  you  evince  a  distrust  of 
Providence,  take  the  care  of  your  babe  out  of  God's  hand,  and 
assume  it  yourself;  and  you  must  not  be  surprised  if  the  con- 
sequence be,  that  your  foot  trips  and  you  fall  upon  him  and 

break  his  neck.     Do  you  remember  how  S T was 

punished  for  her  unreasonable  distrust  ?  And  how  many  such 
!ases  are  there,  to  teach  us,  that  we  ought  not  to  go  out  from 
he  common  course  of  events,  as  if,  by  so  doing,  we  could  gain 
A  security  which  Providence  might  otherwise  have  denied  us. 
1  assure  you  it  would  not  surprise  me  at  all  to  hear,  that  a 
woman  persisting  in  the  course  you  spoke  of,  had  fallen  down 
the  first  hill,  and  broken  her  child's  neck,  and  her  own 
arms 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  19 

"  Thirdly  and  lastly;  I  ask  your  serious  and  candid  atten- 
tion to  what  shall  now  be  offered  on  a  point  which  formed  a 
subject  of  one  of  your  letters  months  ago, — not  to  me,  but  to 
a  much  better  person, — but  on  which  I  hope  it  will  not  be 
esteemed  impertinence  in  me  to  animadvert  briefly.  You 
complained  of  the  difficulty  of  doing  your  duties  as  lady  of 
the  parish,  and  the  unsatisfactoriness  of  your  feelings  in  re- 
gard to  your  intercourse  with  the  people.  This  is  a  point 
on  which  I  can  sympathize  with  you  fully  and  feelingly; 
for  indescribable  is  the  torture  which  I  have  undergone  from 
that  very  cause.  I  came  to  my  parish,  as  you  have  gone  to 
yours,  young,  inexperienced  in  the  world,  and  wholly  a  stran- 
ger to  all  that  intercourse,  which  I  knew  to  be  expected,  and  in 
which  I  longed  to  be  useful.  But  tongue  cannot  tell  what  I 
suffered.  And,  what  is  worse,  I  permitted  my  feelings  some- 
times to  get  the  better  of  me,  and,  through  dread  and  sickness 
of  spirit,  I  left  undone  what  I  ought  to  have  done.  I  shrunk 
from  duties  important  and  not  really  difficult,  in  the  same 
state  of  mind  in  which  Cowper  shrunk  from  his  post  in  Par- 
liament. But  this  brought  me  no  relief,— how  could  it  ?  It 
only  made  the  matter  worse.  It  increased  my  sensitiveness, 
and  added  to  it  the  pangs  of  a  guilty  conscience.  I  am  not, 
even  yet,  wholly  at  my  ease  ;  but  my  experience  may  per- 
haps help  you,  and  1  do  entreat  you,  manfully  to  use  it  as  if 
it  were  your  own. 

"1.  Resolve  resolutely  that  nothing  whatever,  either  in  your 
feelings  or  circumstances,  shall  deter  you  from  doing  what 
you  think  you  ought.  This  determination  of  mind  is  a  great 
point,  I  can  tell  you.  Never  stand  and  think  about  it  and 
dread  it,  but  go  at  once  and  do  it,  and  have  it  over.  You 
remember  the  coward  dies  a  thousand  deaths  in  fearing  one. 
[  have  died  ten  thousand  in  the  agony  of  these  fears  ; — but 
there  was  no  need  of  it. 

"  2.  Persuade  yourself  that  you  are  somebody,  at  least  in  the 
eyes  of  other  people,  and  have  a  right,  from  your  education 


20  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WAREj   JR. 

and  situation,  to  assume  something ; — which  will  be  readily 
allowed  you,  if  you  do  not  act  the  upstart  tyrant.  Oh,  how 
long  it  was  before  I  found  this  out;  or  could  believe  that 
others  looked  on  me  as  anything  more  than  little  Henry 
Ware,  or  were  ready  to  rec'eivie  kindly  and  wdth  deference 
whatever  I  should  say. 

"3.  Be  sensible  that  even  the  appearance  of  a  wish  to  show 
kindness,  the  attempt  to  pay  attentions  and  do  good,  are  valued ; 
and  that  oftentimes  a  slight  favor,  of  which  you  think  nothing, 
will  be  highly  esteemed  by  others.  You  may  think  you  have 
efTected  nothing,  and  therefore  go  home  disheartened  and  sor- 
rowing, when  others  may  think  you  have  done  just  what  you 
should.  I  know  all  about  this.  And,  since  I  have  been  sick, 
I  understand  how  very  sensible  one  may  be  to  very  slight  ben- 
efits, and  how  great  a  kindness  is  the  merest  show  of  sympa- 
thy and  a  desire  to  aid.  In  your  situation,  you  cannot  make 
a  call,  or  use  a  tone  of  sympathy  and  good-will,  but  it  will  be 
gratefully  received,  and  remembered  long  after  you  have  for- 
gotten it.  Is  not  this  an  encouragement  ?  Do  let  these  things 
move  you.  Be  bold,  for  you  have  a  right  to  be  so  ;  and  it  is 
only  by  pushing  on,  through  difficulty  and  in  spite  of  yourself, 
that  you  can  ever  arrive  at  anything  like  satisfaction.  Give 
way  to  your  feelings,  and  you  only  plunge  deeper  into  trou- 
ble ; — you  make  yourself  their  slave,  and  rivet  their  fetters  so 
that  they  can  never  be  broken  ofT. 

"  Dearly  beloved,  the  sermon  is  done,  and  the  improvement 
of  it  made.  Let  me  wish  you  joy  on  your  birth-day,  and  a 
happy  entrance  on  the  new  year.  May  you  and  yours  flour- 
ish in  all  goodness  and  felicity.  The  love  of  all  this  house- 
hold attends  you." 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR.  21 


TO    HIS    BROTHER    WILLIAM. 

"  Brookline,  January  22,  1S29. 
"  I  think  as  you  do  about  Ne\v  Year's  Day,  and  should  not 
object  to  the  introduction  of  the  custom  in  Boston,  bat  must 
remind  you  of  your  imprudence  in  giving  heed  to  common 
Fame,  who  is  an  ancient,  if  not  eternal  liar, — and  vnj  fame 
requires  that  you  tell  those  from  whom  you  heard  the  story, 
that  it  is  essentially  false,  with  just  enough  truth  in  it  to  ena- 
ble it  to  be  told  without  blushing.  In  a  word,  it  is  a  tea-table 
'  Romance  founded  on  Fact.'  And  it  had  its  origin  in  the  cir- 
cumstance, that  your  Reverend  brother  of  the  Second  Church 
sometimes  speaks  in  jest,  and  people  think  him  so  sober  a 
fellow  as  to  be  always  in  earnest ;  whence  having  dissertated 
at  a  lady's  house  (not  in  the  parish)  on  the  beauty  of  the  New 
York  custom,  and  its  desirableness,  &c.,  it  was  said,  'Well, 
we  '11  set  the  fashion  New  Year's  Day,  and  you  shall  come 
and  see  us,  and  we  '11  keep  house.'  January  1st  was  a  dread- 
ful snow  storm  ;  a  journey  to  Boston  Avould  have  cost  me  two 
fingers  and  a  toe  ;  and  I  had  enough  to  do  to  keep  myself 
comfortable  by  my  own  fireside,  without  conjuring  up  the 
recollection  of  a  jest  which  I  had  forgotten  for  months.  But 
I  was  '  all  struck  up  of  a  heap '  some  time  after,  to  hear 
that  the  dear  lady  had  made  her  cookies,  and  boiled  her  coffee, 
and  set  out  her  decanters,  and  kept  the  hearth  and  the  door- 
stone  swept  clean  of  ashes  and  snow  all  the  morning,  waiting 
for  the  minister  to  begin  the  fashion,  as  if  it  was  a  fit  day  for 
setting  out  so  unruly  a  plant  as  a  new  custom." 

TO    THE    SAME. 

"  February  7,  1S29. 
"  Your  project  is  a  grand  one.     I  say  so  because  I  have 
been  conning  over  the  very  same  thing  for  years,  and  know  all 
its  capabilities.     I  have  laid  down  my  plan  for  this  very  work, 


22  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

only  after  the  resurrection,  and  the  scene  of  it  in  Antioch,  but 
with  the  very  same  design.  And  again  I  have  arranged  it 
for  a  poem,  both  epic  and  dramatic,  drawn  my  characters,  and 
sketched  my  plot ;  and,  finding  that  I  never  should  write  it, 
have  been  all  winter  about  proposing  it  to  Hillhouse.  You 
must  not  lose  sight  of  it.  It  is  a  glorious  theme,  and  would 
be  a  useful  work,  exceedingly  pleasant  to  do,  and  you  would 
do  it  well.  First  study  the  whole  thing,  fill  your  mind  with 
the  times,  and  then  write  it  just  as  you  write  your  letters,  in 
the  same  style.  Don't  let  me  die  without  reading  it,  and  I 
shall  live  only  five  years." 

TO   MR.    WILLIAM    BARRY    (iN    GERMANY.) 

"  Brookline,  February  22,  1S29. 
"  As  for  any  hazard  to  principle  or  charac- 
ter from  the  new  influences  of  opinion  and  custom  to  which 
you  are  exposed,  you  have  only  to  regard  them  (which  you 
appear  to  do)  in  the  light  of  moral  discipline,  to  render  them 
not  only  harmless  but  serviceable.  Principle  and  character 
are  universally  of  worth  in  proportion  as  they  have  been  tried. 
It  cannot,  to  be  sure,  be  very  pleasant  to  live  amidst  those  w^ho 
run  counter  in  their  daily  notions  to  our  own  habitual  views 
of  decorum  and  right,  to  find  our  quiet  Sabbaths  turned  into 
riot,  and  clerical  proprieties  set  at  defiance ;  but  one  may  re- 
sist, and  by  resisting  render  old  prepossessions  still  stronger, 
and  home  and  country  still  dearer.  Your  opportunities  of 
study  are  truly  enviable,  if  we  may  innocently  say  so.  It 
might  almost  make  one  sigh  to  think  of  your  listening  to 
Blumenbach  and  Heeren,  (of  whom  we  hear  so  much,  but  are 
condemned  to  know  nothing  personally,)  and  perfecting  your- 
self in  a  language,  which  is  to  be  the  key  to  many  stores  of 
delightful  literature  and  sound  learning,  to  which  we  have  no 
access.  Well,  3'ou  must  remember  it  is  endowing  yourself 
with  another  talent ;  and  your  object  will  be  to  possess  it  in 
just  that  form,  which  shall  render  you  most  useful  on  your 


JR.  23 

return.  Much  is  to  be  done  to  elevate  and  extend  both  our 
literary  and  theological  character ;  and  your  advantages  will 
give  you  the  power,  if  you  will  cherish  the  disposition,  to  be 
a  public  good,  and  to  do  something  to  lead  the  way  in  im- 
provement. 

"  Having  gained  little  or  nothing  this  winter,  I  am  directed 
now  to  quit  this  region  during  the  spring  weather ;  and  I 
intend  sailing  for  Charleston  in  the  course  of  a  month,  my 
wife  with  me  as  nurse.  There  we  shall  take  two  horses  and 
ride  home.  This  seems  more  likely  to  give  strength,  if  any- 
thing will  do  it,  than  a  voyage  to  Europe,  which  in  itself 
would  be  much  pleasanter.  But  as  I  only  seek  health,  I  feel 
that  I  have  no  right  to  choose  the  pleasantest,  unless  it  be  also 
the  best.  I  have  the  great  satisfaction  of  leaving  my  people 
well  provided  for,  as  they  are  about  ordaining  Mr.  Emerson 
as  colleague  ;  and,  as  they  have  conducted  towards  me  in  the 
most  generous  and  Christian  manner,  I  should  have  felt 
unhappy  to  have  left  them  destitute.  I  have  been  able  to  do 
nothing  for  them  for  eight  months.  A  few  weeks  since,  I 
entered  on  a  course  of  parochial  cares  ;  but  was  soon  com- 
pelled to  relinquish  it,  and  have  passed  a  most  useless  winter. 
Yet  I  live  in  hope  of  being  restored  to  labor  again  ;  but,  if 
there  is  no  more  work  for  me  in  the  world,  I  hope  that  this 
long  season  will  have  helped  to  make  me  ready  for  labor  else- 
where. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  our  religious  affairs  have  anything 
worth  communicating.  Boston  is  more  tranquil  than  for  a 
few  years  past.  Controversy  continues,  and  in  some  instances 
with  a  most  deplorable  disregard  to  decency  and  truth.  The 
worst  features  of  party  spirit  have  become  canonized  and  holy. 
This  violence,  however,  is  seeming  to  work  its  own  cure  ;  a 
moderate  party  is  beginning  to  show  itself,  and  I  trust  will  do 
something  to  heal  the  disgraceful  divisions,  or,  at  least,  put 
down  the  shameless  and  unchristian  doings,  which  now  char- 
acterize too  much  the  sectarianism  of  the  day.     '  The  Chris- 


24  LIFE    OF   HENRY   V^ARE,    JR. 

tian  Examiner  '  is  to  be  withdrawn  in  part  from  this  '  dreadful 
trade,'  I  trust,  as  it  is  undergoing  a  change  of  plan." 

TO    HIS    BROTHER    WILLIAM. 

"  Boston,  March  23,  1S29. 

.  .  .  .  .  "  We  quitted  Brooldine  on  Saturday,  P.  M., 
having  packed  our  things  for  Charleston.  When  we  reached 
town,  the  first  thing  that  met  us,  was  the  appointment  to  Cam- 
bridge, unofficially  communicated,  but  with  the  salary  to  begin 
immediately,  and  leave  of  absence  in  Europe.  The  next  thing 
was  a  letter  from  Mr.  Guild,  saying  that  our  friends,  anxious 
that  we  should  do  the  best  thing  possible,  had  made  a  purse 
of  one  thousand  dollars  and  more,  and  begged  we  would  go 
to  England.  To  England,  therefore,  we  go.  Our  present 
plan  is  to  come  to  New  York,  and  sail  for  London,  it  being 
far  best  to  take  the  south  of  the  Island  first,  and  to  be  in  Lon- 
don at  this  particular  season.  If  we  do  this,  you  will  see  us 
on  Saturday  morning.  This  is,  however,  very  uncertain,  as 
we  may  be  determined  to  sail  from  here. 

"  My  parish  refused,  you  know,  to  diminish  my  salary ;  but 
I  have  now  communicated  to  them  the  fact  of  this  appointment, 
and  told  them,  that,  as  I  am  paid  for  another  service,  I  consider 
them  released  from  all  obligation.  They,  I  know,  will  not 
think  so, — for  never  a  people  behaved  better  or  more  kindly; 
but  just  what  they  will  do,  I  cannot  tell.  But,  in  any  event, 
we  shall  have  abundant  means  to  spend  six  clever  months  in 
England  and  France. 

"  My  colleague  has  begun  his  work  in  the  best  possible 
spirit,  and  with  just  the  promise  I  like.  The  few,  who 
talked  of  leaving  the  Society,  are  won  to  remain,  and  it  is  as 
flourishing  as  ever.  We  have  given  up  hired  singing,  and 
employ  our  own  men  and  women.  I  had  a  very  interesting 
parting  service  at  communion  yesterday,  admitted  ten  to  the 
church,  and  did  half  the  service  without  harming  myself,  I 
believe." 


LIFE   OF  HENRY   WARE,    JR.  25 

At  this  time  the  following  communication  took  place 
between  Mr.  Ware  and  his  Society^,  occasioned  by  the 
circumstances  recorded  in  the  foregoing  letters. 

"  Boston,  March  27,  1S29. 
"  To  the  Second  Church  and  Society  in  Boston. 

"  Brethren  and  Friends, 

"  Since  my  last  communication  to  you,  and  the  happy 
result  of  it  in  the  settlement  of  another  minister,  two  circum- 
stances have  occurred,  which  render  it  necessary  for  me  again 
to  address  you. 

"  The  first  is,  that  it  has  been  thought  advisable  for  me  to 
try  the  effect  of  a  voyage  upon  my  health,  and  I  am  conse- 
quently preparing  to  embark  for  Liverpool  on  the  first  of  April. 
You  will  readily  understand  the  gratitude  and  satisfaction 
which  I  feel,  in  the  knowledge  that  you  are  not  left  unpro- 
vided for,  and  that  neither  the  pubhc  nor  private  ministration 
of  religion  will  suffer  through  my  absence. 

"  The  other  circumstance,  to  which  I  refer,  is  the  appoint- 
ment which  I  have  recently  received  to  a  professorship  in  the 
Theological  School  at  Cambridge.  Of  the  probability  of  this 
appointment  I  have  been  for  a  long  time  aware,  and  have  had 
opportunity  to  reflect  deliberately  on  the  propriety  and  duty  of 
accepting  it.  I  do  not  know  that  there  is  any  situation,  con- 
nected with  the  interests  of  religion  and  of  our  churches,  so 
important  as  this  office.  For  it  is  the  most  responsible  and 
influential  in  the  Theological  School,  and  that  School  is  the 
nursery  of  our  ministers,  on  whom  the  character  and  preva- 
lence of  religion  depend.  It  seems  to  me,  therefore,  that  who- 
ever should  have  been  appointed  to  this  place  ought  to  accept 
it  at  any  sacrifice.  Every  other  interest  should  give  way  to 
this.  In  my  own  case,  the  way  seems  to  have  been  so  provi- 
dentially prepared,  that  I  think  neither  you  nor  I  can  hesitate 
a  moment  as  to  our  duty.     I  have  become  in  a  great  measure 

VOL.  n.  3 


26  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

unfitted  for  the  public  duties  of  the  ministry,  but  may  hope  to 
become  strong  enough  for  the  more  retired  and  quiet  duties  of 
the  new  office.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  removal 
would  be  advantageous  to  my  health,  and,  without  diminish- 
ing my  opportunities  of  usefulness,  would  afford  me  a  longer 
life.  And  as  to  the  Society  with  which  I  have  been  so  long 
happily  connected,  Providence  has  kindly  sent  to  it  another 
minister,  and  we  can  have  no  fear  that  my  removal  would  be 
detrimental  to  its  interests.  I  therefore  do  not  doubt  that  I 
ought  to  accept  the  appointment. 

"  I  should  esteem  it  as  a  most  happy  circumstance,  if  I 
might  be  permitted  still  to  retain  my  relation  here,  in  connex- 
ion with  the  office  at  Cambridge.  But  such  an  indulgence 
will  not  be  allowed.  It  will  therefore  be  necessary,  that  we 
consent  to  a  dissolution  of  our  present  relation.  This,  how- 
ever, I  do  not  design  to  ask  at  present.  For,  in  the  first  place, 
the  appointment  is  yet  to  be  acted  upon  by  the  board  of  Over- 
seers, whose  concurrence  is  necessary  to  the  confirmation  of 
the  choice ;  and,  besides,  it  may  not  be  permitted  to  me  to 
return  to  my  country ;  and,  in  that  case,  it  would  be  a  satis- 
faction to  me  to  die  as  your  minister.  Or,  if  God  should 
bring  me  back  in  safety,  it  would  be  a  peculiar  pleasure  to  be 
welcomed  by  you  as  my  people.  But  in  the  mean  time,  as 
my  support  is  provided  from  another  source,  I  consider  you  as 
released  from  all  obligation  to  continue  my  salary.  I  am  vir- 
tually withdrawn  from  you  and  engaged  in  another  service, 
and  of  consequence  you  are  virtually  freed  from  your  engage- 
ment to  me. 

"  And  now.  Brethren,  being  about  to  leave  you  upon  an 
uncertain  absence,  I  bid  you  and  your  families  an  affectionate 
farewell.  I  shall  not  cease  to  think  of  you  with  interest,  and 
to  sympathize  in  all  your  fortunes.  The  bond  which  unites 
us  is  connected  with  eternity ;  and,  whatever  may  be  our 
future  relation  upon  earth,  let  us  pray  and  hope,  that,  in  a  bet- 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  27 

ter  world,  we  shall  meet  and  rejoice  together  again.     Peace 
be  with  you. 

"  Your  friend  and  Pastor, 

"  Henry  Ware,  Jr." 


answer  of  the  society. 

"  Boston,  March  29,  1829. 
"  Reverend  and  dear  Sir, 

"  At  a  meeting  of  the  Proprietors  of  the  Second  Church  and 
Society,  held  this  afternoon  immediately  after  divine  service, 
your  communication  of  the  27th  was  read,  and  the  following 
vote  was  unanimously  passed  : 

" '  That  the  subject  of  Mr.  Ware's  communication  be  com- 
mitted to  the  Standing  Committee,  that  they  may  return  a 
suitable  answer,  and  inform  him,  that  the  proprietors  confirm 
their  vote  passed  at  a  former  meeting,  continuing  his  salary  to 
the  first  of  July  next,  and  request  him  to  receive  it.' 

"  In  making  known  this  vote,  we  beg  leave  to  repeat  the 
full  and  hearty  concurrence  of  respect  and  gratitude,  of  which 
it  is  meant  to  be  the  expression.  We  rejoice,  that  the  con- 
nexion between  us  and  yourself  is  not  yet  to  be  dissolved. 
We  rejoice,  that  the  sacred  relation  is  still  to  subsist,  which 
has  been  so  happy  to  all  of  us,  and  has  wrought  to  us  inex- 
pressible good,  which  we  trust  will  be  eternal.  While  this 
relation  continues,  we  are  bound  to  you  by  a  bond  stronger 
than  the  ties  of  kindred.  We  feel  ourselves  near  to  you, 
although  the  ocean  may  roll  between  us.  And,  though  a 
faithful  servant  of  God  needs  no  other  and  can  have  no  higher 
reward,  than  the  testimony  of  his  own  conscience,  and  the 
hope  of  his  Master's  approbation,  yet  we  are  sure  that  it  will 
be  grateful  to  you  to  know,  that  you  carry  with  you  the  best 
wishes  and  the  prayers  of  your  people.  Wherever  you  may 
be,  it  will  be  the  greatest  satisfaction  to  us,  that  Ave  may  still 
regard  you,  and  that  you  desire  us  to  regard  you,  as  our 


28  LIFE    OF   HENRY  WARE,    JR. 

Pastor.  "We  pra}^  that  He  who  preserveth  the  stranger  may 
keep  you  in  safety  on  the  ocean  and  in  foreign  lands ;  that 
the  air  of  other  climates  may  be  made  the  balm  of  health  to 
you ;  that  you  may  not  die,  but  live,  and  declare  the  works  of 
the  Lord ;  that  we,  your  people,  may  welcome  you  to  your 
native  shore,  and  hear  from  your  own  mouth  the  good  things 
that  our  God  has  done  for  you. 

"  We  feel  that  you  have  done  right  in  accepting  the  appoint- 
ment in  the  School  at  Cambridge.  We  confess,  that  we  do 
not  relinquish,  without  a  mixture  of  pain,  the  prospect  of  hav- 
ing you  again  among  us  as  our  minister.  But  that  higher 
service  has  a  stronger  claim  upon  you  and  upon  us ;  and  it  is 
an  alleviation  of  the  sorrow  which  we  feel,  that  you  will  be 
useful  in  your  new  office,  before  it  will  be  safe  for  you,  with 
your  first  returning  strength,  to  resume  the  arduous  duties 
which  you  have  always  looked  upon  as  belonging  to  the  office 
of  a  Minister  of  the  Gospel.  We  rejoice  that  one,  who  has 
such  high  views  of  that  sacred  office,  is  to  have  influence  over 
those  who  are  preparing  to  enter  upon  it. 

"  We  most  cordially  reciprocate  your  kind  wishes,  and,  in 
behalf  of  all  your  people,  we  bid  you,  dear  and  reverend  Sir, 
farewell.  May  God  be  thy  keeper ;  may  he  preserve  thee 
from  evil ;  may  he  preserve  thy  going  out  and  thy  coming  in, 
from  this  time  forth. 

"  With  you  also  be  peace. 

"Peter  Mackintosh,  Jr.,  )       i     ^ 
George  B.  Emerson,       > 
George  A.   Sampson,       S  Committee." 

I  transfer  from  the  Sermon  of  Mr.  Robbins,  to  which 
I  have  been  already  so  much  indebted,  an  accomit  of 
the  last  attendance  on  public  worship  and  at  the  com- 
munion service,  to  which  he  alludes  in  one  of  the  fore- 
going letters. 


LIFE   OF    HENRY   WARE.   JR. 


29 


*'  The  last  Sabbath  before  embarking  for  Europe,  he  was 
present  in  this  desk ;  but  in  so  enfeebled  a  state,  as  to  dis- 
qualify him  for  taking  any  other  part  in  the  service,  save  the 
reading  of  two  stanzas  of  a  favorite  hymn.  But  the  devotional 
breathings  of  the  inimitable  lyric  poet,  which  are  embalmed 
for  immortality  in  those  beautiful  verses,  expressed  what  was 
then  passing  in  the  heart  of  the  reader,  more  clearly  and  hap- 
pily, perhaps,  than  any  discourse  which  he  could  have  deliv- 
ered. The  aged  friend,  who  has  pointed  out  to  me  this 
hymn,  and  who  bears  the  occasion  in  clearest  remembrance, 
has  told  me,  what  I  can  easily  imagine,  that  its  reading  was 
listened  to  by  the  whole  congregation  ^vith  tears. 

"  '  May  peace  attend  thy  gate, 
And  joy  within  thee  wait, 

To  bless  the  soul  of  every  guest ; 
The  man  who  seeks  thy  peace, 
'     And  wishes  thine  increase, 

A  thousand  blessings  on  him  rest. 

"  '  My  tongue  repeats  her  vows, 
"  Peace  to  this  sacred  house  !" 

For  here  my  friends  and  brethren  dwell  ; 
And  since  my  glorious  God 
Makes  thee  His  blest  abode, 

My  soul  shall  ever  love  thee  well.'*" 

This  change  of  destination  was  in  all  respects  a  most 
agreeable  one.  His  original  plan,  as  stated  in  his  let- 
ters, had  been  to  sail  for  Charleston  with  his  wife,  early 
enough  in  the  season  to  enable  him  to  avoid  the  harsh 

"  *  I  have  been  informed,  that  at  the  communion,  which  was  administered  on 
the  day  alluded  to,  Mr.  Ware,  aUhough  positively  forbidden  by  his  physician 
to  risk  the  effort  of  speaking,  could  not  restrain  his  desire  to  say  a  parting 
word.  He  made  a  brief  address,  which,  to  use  the  strong  expression  of  my 
informant,  — who  alluded  to  the  description  I  had  given  of  the  eflect  of  the 
hymn  upon  the  congregation,— '  was  heard  not  with  tears  only,  but  with 
sobs.'"— Mr.  Robbins's  Sermon. 

VOL.  n»  3^ 


30  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

and  repulsive  weather  of  a  New  England  spring,  to 
take  horses  there,  after  a  sufficient  delay,  and  travel 
homeward  at  a  very  moderate  rate,  following  the  mild 
weather  on  to  the  North,  and  reaching  home  after  all 
the  severity  of  the  season  had  passed.  But  his  desire 
to  visit  Europe  had  always  been  very  strong.  He  had 
not  only  that  desire  for  it,  which  must  be  felt  by  every 
man  of  taste  and  education;  but  he  was  perhaps  even 
more  strongly  influenced  by  the  wish  to  form  an 
acquaintance,  and  establish  an  intercourse,  with  the 
ministers  of  his  own  denomination  in  Great  Britain. 
He  probably  made  his  visit  to  Europe  more  of  a  profes- 
sional one,  than  most  of  his  brethren ;  and  it  did  much 
to  excite  a  spirit  of  familiar  inter-communication 
between  the  Unitarians  of  the  two  countries,  to  make 
them  acquainted  with  each  other,  and  to  create  a  recip- 
rocal interest  in  each  other's  Avelfare  and  progress. 

He  sailed  with  his  wife,  in  the  ship  Dover,  Captain 
Bursley,  on  the  first  of*  April,  and  remained  abroad 
nearly  seventeen  months,  returning  in  the  latter  part  of 
August,  1830.  During  his  absence,  he  visited  England, 
Holland,  Italy,  Switzerland,  and  France,  spending  the 
winter  in  Rome.  During  this  period,  although  he  en- 
joyed a  great  deal  and  gathered  materials  for  enjoyment 
in  all  his  after  life,  he  also  suflfered  a  great  deal.  He 
had  much  to  contend  with,  both  bodily  and  mentally, 
from  failing  to  find  that  speedy  improvement  in  health 
and  strength,  which  had  been  anticipated  for  him.  At 
times,  indeed,  his  condition  was  such,  that  he  not  only 
was  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  gained  nothing, 
but  he  felt  that  he  had  strong  reasons  for  the  apprehen- 
sion, that  he  was  never  to  be  better.  From  this  cause 
he  fell  occasionally  into  a  state  of  great  depression  at  the 


_    JR.  31 

prospect,  which  he  was  obhged  to  contemplate,  of  re- 
turning home,  a  weak,  broken-down,  and,  what  was 
worst  to  him,  a  useless  man.  Nearly  up  to  the  period 
of  his  embarkation  for  home,  it  remained  a  matter  of 
considerable  doubt,  whether  he  had  derived  any  benefit 
from  his  travels.  His  health  had  fluctuated  from  time 
to  time,  but  on  the  whole  he  exhibited  fewer  indications 
of  renewed  vigor,  than  on  his  return  from  his  excursion 
on  horseback  in  October,  1828.  On  the  passage  home, 
he  suffered  from  a  very  severe  and  painful,  and,  in  his 
situation,  alarming  attack,  which  was  thrown  off"  with 
considerable  difficulty,  and  reduced  him  much.  He, 
however,  completely  recovered  from  this  before  his  arri- 
val home.  From  this  period  he  continued  decidedly  to 
improve,  and  it  was  soon  obvious  that  his  health,  if  not 
perfectly  established,  was  at  least  so  far  restored  as  to 
render  him  competent  to  the  labors  of  his  new  office. 

There  would  be  no  special  interest  in  a  detail  of  the 
events  of  this  period  of  absence.  The  account  of  it  will 
therefore  be  confined  to  such  extracts  from  his  letters 
and  journal,  as  indicate  the  state  of  his  health,  his  occu- 
pations, his  movements  from  place  to  place,  and  his 
intercourse  with  interesting  persons. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

LETTERS  ON  HIS  PASSAGE  TO  EUROPE  — ARRIVAL  IN  LIVERPOOL— VISIT 
TO  MR.  ROSCOE— TO  MRS.  HEMANS  — TO  MR.  MAURY  — VISIT  TO  MAN- 
CHESTER—  TO  THE  LEASOWES  — PREACHING  OF  ROBERT  HALL  — 
PAINTINGS  AT  BURLEIGH  HOUSE  —  VISIT  TO  WORDSWORTH  — 
SOUTHEY  —  IRELAND  —  MISS  EDGEWORTH  —  HOLLAND  —  PASSAGE  UP 
THE  RHINE  — MASS  IN  THE  CATHEDRAL  AT  STRASBURG— GENEVA 
—  INTEMPERANCE  FROM  WINE  —  TREADING  THE  WINE-PRESS  — CAR- 
DINAL MEZZOFANTI  — FLORENCE  — STATUARY'  — PAINTINGS  — LETTERS 
FROM  ROME  — COLISEUM  BY'  MOONLIGHT— RAFFAELLe's  CHAMBERS  — 
HOLY  WEEK  AND  SINGING  THE  MISERERE — GREENOUGH  AND  THOR- 
WALDSEN  — STATE    OF    HIS    HEALTH. 

1829-1830.     JET.  35-36. 

to  the  rev.  ralph  w.  e3iers0n. 

"Ship  Dover,  April  15,  1829. 
*'  My  dear  Sir, 

"We  are  a  little  more  than  half  way  upon  our  passage; 
and  a  quiet  day,  relieving  me  from  sickness  and  the  ship  from 
its  tossings,  invites  me  to  send  homeward,  in  a  visible  form, 
some  of  the  thoughts  which  have  been  haunting  me,  of  those 
I  left  behind.  Amongst  these  are  of  course  to  be  numbered 
my  people,  who  have  been  a  chief  object  of  my  care  for  years  ; 
and  yourself,  as  the  bond  which  now  binds  them,  together,  and 
the  heir  of  my  solicitudes  and  duties.  I  have  been  thinking- 
much,  and  with  great  gratitude,  of  the  kindness  of  Providence 
in  bringing  our  affairs  to  just  this  issue  ;  so  that,  when  com- 
pelled to  quit  my  place,  I  have  been  able  to  resign  it,  v.'ith 
complete  satisfaction,  into  the  hands  of  one  who  seems  both 
qualified  and  disposed  to  do  all  which  ought  to  be  done,  and 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  33 

in  the  most  successful  way.  If  you  will  continue  persever- 
ingly  in  the  way  and  the  spirit  in  which  you  have  begun  your 
work,  you  may  confidently  look  forward  to  a  happy  and  use- 
ful ministry.  I  do  not  know  what  time  and  absence  may  do 
to  diminish  my  interest  in  this  Society ;  but  I  feel  at  present, 
as  if  it  could  never  be  lost,  and  that  I  shall  watch  its  welfare 
with  as  great  anxiety  as  ever.  But  I  am  henceforth  separated 
from  all  active  concern,  and  shall  feel  no  right  to  intrude  my- 
self into  its  affairs.  I  mean,  therefore,  while  I  am  absent,  as 
occasion  may  offer,  to  transmit  to  you  a  few  farewell  sayings ; 
some  of  which  may  be  useless,  but  some  possibly  may  help  to 
guide  you  in  following  the  thread  of  events,  as  far  as  desira- 
ble, and  in  changing  the  course  pursued,  wherever  it  can  be 
done  to  advantage. 

"  One  of  the  first  things,  perhaps,  which  will  strike  you  in 
getting  acquainted  with  the  parish,  will  be,  the  inequality  with 
which  I  have  labored.  I  have  never  been  so  sensible  of  this, 
as  since  my  sickness  last  summer,  when  I  have  had  time  to 
look  back  deliberately  on  my  course  ;  and  I  mention  it  now  to 
warn  you  against  it,  as  the  source  of  much  future  regret  and 
remorse.  I  will  instance  in  the  attention  I  have  paid  to 
the  children,  which  has  sometimes  been  very  systematical 
and  thorough,  sometimes  greatly  neglected.  Various  causes 
have  led  to  its  neglect  for  some  time  past.  And  yet,  if  there 
be  anything  which  gives  satisfaction  to  a  minister,  and  is  a 
visible  testimony  of  good,  and  a  reAvard  in  hand  for  his  toils, 
it  is  this.  In  eight  or  ten  years  he  finds  young  men  and 
women  around  him,  whose  characters  he  has  helped  to  form, 
and  W'ho  become  the  companions  and  helpers  of  him  in  every 
good  undertaking.  I  long  to  see  the  children  of  our  Society 
again  brought  under  the  constant  superintendence  of  the  min- 
ister." 


34  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

TO    HIS    FATHER. 

"  Ship  Dover,  April  25,  1829,  just  off  the  Irish  Coast. 
"  My  dear  Father, 

"  It  is  one  of  the  alleviations  of  this  horrible  business  of 
going  to  sea,  that  a  quiet  ship  and  a  quiet  stomach  are  once  in 
a  while  enjoyed,  as  a  sort  of  luxury;  a  luxury  which  I  hap- 
pen to  possess  this  evening,  and  mean  to  share  with  you. 
Since  last  Sunday  we  have  had  foul  weather,  and,  for  the  last 
two  days,  a  violent  gale  ahead,  which  has  driven  us  to  our 
berths,  dashed  our  dinners  from  the  table,  and  kept  us  all 
miserable,  without  the  sense  of  making  any  progress.  This 
afternoon  we  have  had  a  fine  view  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  a 
beautiful  scene,  under  any  circumstances,  and  especially  so 
under  ours  ;  not  to  mention  the  poor  Irishmen  who  ran  up  the 
rigging  to  see  it,  and  got  dashed  by  the  spray  for  their  pains. 
The  lulling  of  the  wind  sets  all  to  rights,  and  stomachs  and 
tongues  are  in  good  humor  once  more. 

"  I  have  had  few,  very  few,  hours  like  this ;  the  whole  voyage 
has  been  a  succession  of  sicknesses  and  ill  feelings.  However, 
even  in  lying  in  bed,  sleepless  and  foodless,  I  have  had  some 
seasons  of  comfortable  and  happy  thought;  for  an  empty 
stomach  is  an  excellent  suggester  of  visions  and  exciter  of 
reflection,  and,  in  the  past  and  the  future,  I  have  found  some 
recompense  for  the  evils  of  the  present.  But,  among  all  my 
musings,  it  is  a  little  strange,  that  I  have  never  yet  been  able 
to  feel  that  I  am  actually  on  the  ocean,  and  embarked  on  an 
expedition  of  so  much  uncertainty.  I  have  thought  it  over 
and  over;  considered,  weighed,  and  repeated  to  myself  in 
every  form,  the  momentous  nature  of  my  undertaking,  and  its 
various  risks  and  perils.  But,  after  all,  I  have  felt  no  other- 
wise than  I  should  do  if  I  had  merely  started  on  a  journey  to 
New  York ;  whether  it  be  insensibility,  I  know  not.  So  it 
was  too,  in  taking  leave  of  friends ;  many  were  very  much 
affected,  but  I  never  was  at  all.     I  could  not  bring  it  home  to 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR.  35 

myself.  I  dare  say  you  observed  this,  when  I  parted  from 
you  at  Cambridge.  I  knew  it  was  possible,  that  I  never 
should  see  you  again ;  but  I  went  away  as  if  only  for  a  day. 
Just  so  it  is  still ;  and  yet  I  believe,  that  I  have  given  my 
mind  to  every  view  of  my  situation  and  every  possible  result 
of  it,  which  becomes  a  religious  and  accountable  man,  and,  by 
so  doing,  I  hope  to  be  prepared  for  it. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  any  one  has  more  reason  to  contem- 
plate with  gratitude  and  admiration  the  dealings  of  Provi- 
dence, in  his  past  life  and  present  situation,  than  I  have.  From 
my  earliest  childhood,  through  the  various  stages  of  my  edu- 
cation, entrance  on  life,  and  success  in  life ;  and  especially  in 
the  events  of  the  past  year,  I  have  traced  a  guidance  from 
above,  which  gives  me  a  trust  and  hope,  which,  I  think,  have 
prepared  me  for  anything,  and  in  which  I  cannot  believe  that 
1  am  deceived.  I  have,  of  course,  had  a  great  deal  of  time  to 
think  of  myself  and  review  the  past ;  and  the  great  impression 
prevailing  in  my  mind  is,  that  of  astonishment  at  the  lot 
allowed  me,  accompanied  by  a  feeling,  that  it  is  all  the  gift  of 
Heaven,  and  none  of  my  own  deserving  or  acquiring.  I  am 
puzzled  to  understand  how  it  is  possible,  that  I  should  possess 
the  favor  in  society,  and  the  confidence,  which  have  been  ex- 
tended toward  me,  when  a  fair  survey  of  my  private  history 
and  character  always  mortifies  me  for  my  negligence  and  ill- 
doings,  and  I  know  that  I  have  done  much  less  than  I  might 
and  ought  to  have  done.  Yet,  because  of  certain  natural  gifts, 
I  have  easily  reached  a  point  which  I  see  others,  of  greater 
fidelity  and  diligence,  fail  of  attaining.  I  take,  therefore,  no 
credit  to  myself,  and  hope  that  this  feeling  will  save  me  from 
any  improper  self-confidence  and  presumption  in  the  new 
duties  to  which  I  am  called.  It  is  among  the  wonders  of  my 
life,  that  they  should  have  been  put  upon  me  as  they  have, 
when  they  are  more  suited  to  my  taste  than  any  others  I  could 
name ;  and  I  fancy  that  the  interest  which  I  shall  take  in  them 
will  enable  me  to  be,  to  a  certain  extent,  successful  in  them.     I 


36  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,  JR. 

have  a  strong  confidence  that  I  shall  survive  all  peril  and  sick- 
ness, and  be  permitted  to  enter  on  them,  a  tolerably  strong 
man.  You  will  not  wonder  that  I  should  have  it,  when  yo\i 
think  of  the  peculiar  circumstances  which  have  attended  the 
whole  affair ;  everything  being  so  ordered  as  if  on  purpose  to 
secure  this  result. 

"  Perhaps  you  cannot  see  it  as  I  do,  and  will  think  it  all 
presumption.  It  may  be  so,  I  acknowledge ;  but  it  is  a  state 
of  mind  favorable  to  a  feeling  of  responsibility,  and,  so  far,  it 
may  be  a  right  preparation  for  duty.  The  manner  in  which  I 
have  been  sent  away,  has,  in  this  point  of  view,  affected  me 
deeply.  The  earnestness  with  which  the  generosity  of  friends 
was  pressed  upon  me ;  the  large  provision  which  was  spon- 
taneously made,  in  order  that  I  might  go  abroad  under  the 
best  advantages ;  the  letters  that  were  sent  to  me  from  various 
quarters,  (about  fifty,  where  I  did  not  ask  for  one,)  and  the 
kind  messages  and  testimonies  of  interest,  which  came  to  me 
during  the  last  few  days,  all  combine  to  make  me  very 
thoughtful,  and  feel  that  I  have  laid  upon  me  a  weighty  bur- 
den of  obligation,  which  I  can  only  repay  by  devoting  myself 
to  myself,  while  I  am  gone,  and  working  with  new  vigor  when 
I  return.  I  should  be  most  ungrateful  if  I  did  not  feel,  to  the 
bottom  of  my  heart,  the  kindness  which  I  have  experienced ; 
and  I  wish  that  you  and  all  my  friends  should  understand 
how  great  it  has  been,  and  how  much  we  shall  owe  to  others 
if  I  come  home  safe  and  well. 

"  I  am  afraid  this  is  liardly  such  a  letter  as  you  expected 
from  across  the  ocean ;  but  I  did  want  to  pour  out  to  you 
some  of  my  musings,  that  you  may  know  what  is  passing  in 
my  mind  ;  and  it  is  not  often  that  I  get  an  opportunity  of  vent- 
ing my  egotism  into  your  ears.  I  would  tell  you,  if  I  could, 
how  I  am  always  tracing  back  every  blessing  of  my  lot  to 
your  early  cares.  Whatever  is  good  in  my  habits  and  princi- 
ples, and  prosperous  in  my  professional  career,  I  see  its  begin- 
ning in  your  discipline,  when  I  was  young.     And  I  feel  as  if 


JR.  37 

I  ought,  once  in  a  while,  to  let  you  in,  a  little  more  nearly,  to 
the  mind  and  heart  you  have  trained.  I  would  rather  show 
by  my  actions,  than  by  words,  my  gratitude ;  but,  if  we  should 
never  meet  again  in  this  world,  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  left 
with  you  one  expression  of  it  at  least." 

STORM,    AND   ARRIVAL   IN    LIVERPOOL. 
(From  his  Journal,  April  28.) 

"  On  Tuesday  morning,  toward  daylight,  I  overheard  a  boy 
say  that  we  had  passed  Holyhead;  and,  at  seven,  I  was 
wakened  by  the  rushing  of  the  waters  into  the  cabin  through 
the  windows.  Our  state-rooms  w^ere  soon  afloat,  and  the  con- 
fusion which  ensued,  in  swabbing  up  the  water  and  removing 
the  carpets,  delayed  breakfast  till  nine  o'clock,  when  there  was 
so  much  motion  from  the  increasing  wind,  as  to  render  eating 
and  drinking  a  very  troublesome  undertaking.  But  we  were 
in  fine  spirits,  expecting  confidently  to  be  in  Liverpool  by 
three  o'clock.  Signal  was  made  for  a  pilot,  ofT  Point  Linus, 
(jElianus,)  and,  at  about  eleven,  the  boat  rode  by  us,  tossed 
about  on  the  white  waves,  and  seemingly  in  danger  of  being 
swallowed  up.  A  dozen  men  in  her,  dressed  in  their  storm 
coats  and  hats,  made  a  fearful  show,  and,  in  their  anxiety  to 
direct  us,  all  talked  at  once  with  such  confusion  of  tongues, 
that  it  was  impossible  to  understand  them.  It  was  now  blow- 
ing a  most  violent  gale,  and  we  were  standing  obliquely 
towards  the  Skerry  rocks.  "We  were  so  near,  that  the  objects 
on  shore  were  distinct  to  the  eye.  When  the  pilots  found 
that  \Ye  could  not  hear,  they  addressed  themselves  to  us  by 
gesture,  waving  hats  and  hands  with  the  utmost  vehemence, 
and  one  of  them  earnestly  running  up  the  shrouds. 

"  The  impression  on  the  minds  of  all  the  passengers  was, 
that  they  warned  us  off  the  shore,  and  their  earnestness 
seemed  to  indicate  some  immediate  peril.  We  were  anxious 
enough,  and,  for  a  few  minutes,  the  countenances  around  me 
betrayed  as  much  horror  as  I  ever  saw  expressed.     The  cap- 

VOL.  II.  4 


38  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

tain  still,  however,  stood  on  toward  shore,  till  our  uneasiness 
had  reached  a  point  to  be  borne  no  longer ;  he  then  gave 
orders  to  tack,  and  stood  out  to  sea.  We  then  felt  easier,  but 
the  impression  did  not  wear  away,  and  the  day  was  a  horrible 
one.  The  gale  became  a  hurricane,  and  we  were  driven  to 
and  fro  about  the  cabin,  without  ease  or  security  in  any  posi- 
tion. Meantime  the  pilot  boat  hovered  about  us,  like  a  guar- 
dian angel,  as  Mr.  T said.     At  about  four  o'clock  we 

made  the  signal,  '  Will  you  come  on  hoard  1 '  The  boat  dashed 
by  us,  and  so  near  that  we  caught  the  directions  given  for 
preparing  to  receive  them.  The  sails  were  trimmed  accord- 
ingly, and  an  unsuccessful  attempt  was  made  to  board.  She 
bounded  off  again,  and  again  returned.  Nobody  can  describe 
ihe  intense  interest  of  that  moment.  It  was  a  case  of  life  and 
death.  It  seemed  as  if  the  little  sloop  must  be  crushed,  like  an 
^gg,  by  the  rolling  of  our  ship  down  upon  it ;  and  as  if  to  step 
from  one  to  the  other,  during  this  horrible  agitation,  must  be 
certain  death.  Two  pilots  lost  their  lives  in  such  an  attempt 
last  winter,  as  we  were  told.  And,  therefore,  as  we  watched 
these  exertions,  the  two  vessels  side  by  side,  now  thrown 
apart,  and  then  thrust  together  by  the  rising  and  falling  of 
the  sea,  and,  at  each  meeting,  the  pilot  attempting  to  spring  on 
board,  while  all  his  fellows  stood  by,  each  w^ith  a  life-buoy  in 
hand  to  throw  to  him  in  case  he  should  lose  his  footing, 
our  hearts  throbbed  violently ;  and,  for  myself,  I  felt  almost 
faint,  and  could  look  on  no  longer. 

"  By  and  by,  at  a  happy  moment,  I  heard  the  cry  which 
announced  his  success.  A  great  John  Bull,  of  three  hundred 
weight,  stepped  upon  deck.  Every  soul  seemed  to  draw  a 
long  breath.  '  I  thank  you,  sir ! '  cried  the  captain,  in  his 
heartiest  voice.  The  little  sloop  shot  ahead,  and  was  soon 
lost  in  the  distance.  This  was  just  at  eight  o'clock.  It  was 
beginning  to  be  dark.  Never  was  greater  relief  felt  than  by 
our  whole  ship's  company ;  we  felt  safe  for  the  night.  The 
wind  became  less  violent,  but  was  still  fierce.     I  went  to  bed 


JK.  39 

and  slept  soundly ;  and,  when  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  found 
the  ship  just  entering  the  dock  at  Liverpool." 

to  his  brotpier  john. 

"  Liverpool,  April  29. 

"  There  was  great  anxiety,  and  not  without 

reason.  Three  ships  near  us  w^ent  ashore,  and  one  was 
wholly  wrecked,  with  the  loss  of  every  soul.  They  do  not- 
rem ember  a  severer  gale  in  this  place.  So  that  we  have  not 
only  the  common  incitements  to  gratitude,  which  are  felt  after 
a  voyage,  but  a  peculiar  call  to  it,  as  having  experienced 
peculiar  deliverance.  To-day's  paper  contains  a  particular 
account  of  the  gale,  which  for  some  hours  put  an  end  to  all 
business  at  the  docks,  and  drove  chimneys  and  tiles  about  the 
streets.  As  to  myself,  of  whom  you  will  expect  a  report,  I 
cannot  tell  whether  I  am  better  or  w^orse  for  the  voyage.  I 
have  lost  flesh,  but  not  during  the  last  ten  days.  I  have  felt 
the  want  of  exercise,  but,  for  the  latter  part  of  the  time,  have 
lacked  neither  appetite  nor  sleep.  I  have  taken  two  or  three 
slight  colds,  and  always  found  my  lungs  unpleasantly  aflected 
by  exposure  to  the  sea  air  on  deck.  It  produced  greater 
expectoration  and  a  sense  of  weariness  in  breathing.  The 
excitement  of  yesterday,  and  of  landing  this  morning,  pro- 
duced an  excessive  lassitude,  with  rapid  pulse ;  but  a  warm 
bath,  and  lying  down  three  or  four  hours,  removed  it ;  and  I 
have  w^alked  abroad  this  afternoon  and  feel  the  better  for  it." 

VISIT    TO    MR.    EOSCOE. 

(Journal,  May  4.) 
"  We  then  drove  to  Mr.  ivoscoe's,  about  a  mile  further.  He 
lives  in  a  small,  retired  house,  with  but  the  shadow  of  his 
former  comforts  and  elegancies  around  him ;  yet,  even  in  this 
diminished  sphere,  you  could  not  but  observe  the  air  of  refine- 
ment and  cultivation.     After  some  conversation  with  Miss 


40  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

Koscoe,  we  were  invited  to  the  old  gentleman's  chamber,  a 
privilege  we  had  hardly  ventured  to  hope  for.  We  found 
him  feeble ;  but  he  rose  to  receive  us,  and  showed  the  appear- 
ance of  a  most  venerable,  gentlemanly  person.  He  has  long 
been  confined  to  his  room,  by  a  paralytic  affection,  I  think ; 
but  it  was  delightful  to  find  that  he  had  been  able  to  beguile 
the  time  by  useful  and  interesting  occupation.  He  told  us 
that  he  had  just  brought  to  their  conclusion  two  Avorks,  which 
he  had  been  anxious  to  finish  before  his  death.  The  first  is  a 
Catalogue  of  the  Library  of  Manuscripts,  (a  very  rich  and 
extensive  one,  especially  in  the  classics  and  the  Scriptures,) 
belonging  to  Mr.  Coke,  of  Holkham,  which  he  inherited  from 
the  Earl  of  Leicester.  The  other  is  a  splendid  work  on  Bot- 
any, which  has  been  his  amusement  for  a  long  time.  This  he 
showed  us,  and'  a  beautiful  work  it  is.  He  also  caused  his 
daughter  to  read  to  us  the  Inscription,  which  he  had  just  writ- 
ten, to  be  printed  on  the  back  of  the  title.  Mary  asked  for  a 
copy,  and  he  allowed  her  to  take  it,  saying,  it  was  his  farewell 
to  the  Muses. 

'"INSCRIPTION. 

*' '  God  of  the  changeful  year !  amidst  the  glow 

Of  strength,  and  beauty,  and  transcendant  grace, 
Which,  on  the  mountain  lieights,  or  deep  below 

In  sheltered  vales,  or  each  sequestered  place, 
Thy  forms  of  vegetable  life  assume  ; 

Whether  thy  Pines,  with  giant  arms  displayed, 
Brave  the  cold  North,  or,  wrapped  in  Eastern  gloom, 

Thy  trackless  forests  sweep,  a  world  of  shade  ; 
Or  whether,  scenting  ocean's  panting  breast, 

Thy  odoriferous  isles  innumcrous  rise, 
Or,  under  various  lighter  forms  impressed 

Of  fruits  and  flowers,  thy  works  delight  our  eyes  ; — 
God  of  all  life,  whate'er  those  forms  may  be. 

Oh,  may  they  all  unite  in  praising  thee  !'  " 


LIFE    OF    HExNRY    WARE.    JR.  41 

VISIT  TO  BIR.  MAURY. 
(Journal,  May  3.) 
"  Mr.  Maury,  the  venerable  consul,  twice  called  ;  once  in 
company  with  his  daughter.  I  passed  an  uncommonly  pleas- 
ant hour  with  him  at  his  office.  He  is  old  and  very  active, 
and  attributes  his  fine  health,  in  no  small  degree,  to  the  daily 
use  of  the  cold  bath.  He  cited  his  old  friend,  Charles  Car- 
roll, as  another  example  of  its  efRcacy,  and  of  rigid  systematic 
temperance.  He  spoke  much  of  Jefferson,  wuth  whom  he  was 
long  a  school-mate  under  his  father's  instruction  ;  represented 
him  as  being,  from  childhood  and  through  life,  a  person  of 
•wonderful  industry ;  and  showed  me  a  very  interesting  letter 
written  a  few  years  since,  in  answer  to  Mr.  Maury's  inquiry 
after  his  age,  which  closed  in  nearly  these  W'Ords : — '  As  for 
myself,  my  frame  is  feeble,  and  my  powers  of  body  and  mind 
decay ;  and  I  shall  meet  with  welcome  the  hour,  that  shall 
once  more  reassemble  the  scattered  members  of  our  class  with 
their  venerated  head.' " 

VISIT    TO    MRS.    IIEBIANS. 
(Journal,  May  8.) 

"  She  gave  me  a  hearty  welcome,  and  I  spent  two  delight- 
ful hours  in  various  and  animated  conversation.  In  her 
appearance  and  manners  there  is  everything  pleasing  and 
easy,  but  nothing  striking.  Her  countenance  disappointed  me 
from  its  want  of  intellectual  and  poetic  expression,  and  her  air 
has  nothing  of  that  pensiveness,  which  the  character  of  her 
works  would  lead  one  to  expect.  There  was  rather  a  remark- 
able brightness  and  vivacity  about  her;  and,  in  the  course  of 
conversation,  I  found  this  to  be  the  style  of  manner  and  char- 
acter which  she  prefers.  Her  conversation  was  rapid  and 
lively,  not  brilliant,  nor  often  poetical,  but  full  of  fine  thought 
and  sentiment.  She  spoke  with  warm  interest  of  America 
and  her  American  friends.  On  the  whole,  I  have  seldom  had 
so  delightful  an  interview,  and  came  a-way  perfectly  satisfied." 

VOL.  II.  4^ 


«S  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

to  his  brother  john. 

"  Manchester,  May  13. 
"  On  Saturday  I  saw  Messrs.  Robberds  and  Tayler,  two  of 
the  four  Unitarian  ministers,  and  took  tea  with  the  latter; 
heard  both  preach,  and  exceedingly  well  too,  on  Sunday,  and 
dined  with  them  and  the  other  two  ministers  on  Monday,  at 
Mr.  Brooks's.  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  them  and  enjoyed  the 
intercourse  very  highly.  They  seemed  gratified  to  see  an 
American,  and  expressed  a  strong  interest  in  all  that  relates  to 
us.  They  are  acquainted  with  almost  everything  we  publish, 
and  Dr.  Channing  is  quite  a  classic  with  them.  Indeed,  I 
find  that  he  is  read  and  admired  by  all  denominations.  I 
wish  to  make  it  a  point  to  see  all  the  ministers  of  our  connex- 
ion, who  fall  in  our  way;  and  thus  far  the  acquaintances  I 
jiave  formed,  have  been  highly  gratifying.  Much  remem- 
brance to  kind  and  numberless  friends.  Tell  me  everything 
that  takes  place  amongst  them,  and  let  me  hear  whatever 
relates  to  the  parish  and  its  concerns,  and  all  who  are  inter- 
ested in  them.  I  find  that  I  care  more  for  them  than  for  any- 
thing else." 

THE  LEASOWES. 
(Journal,  May  16.) 
"  We  turned  aside  at  Hales-Owen  to  see  the  Leasowes, 
Shenstone's  seat.  It  has  been  wholly  neglected  for  years, 
and  is  now  in  ruins.  One  would  scarcely  guess  that  the  hand 
of  man  had  ever  been  upon  the  ground.  The  house  is  finely 
situated,  on  a  most  commanding  eminence,  the  path  to  it  wind- 
ing round  the  ascent.  We  found  no  one  to  accompany  us ; 
but  taking  the  best  direction  we  could  get,  we  passed  back  of 
the  house,  and  followed  the  faint  traces  of  the  ancient  walk. 
It  led  us  first  down  to  a  little  pool,  and  then  by  the  side  of 
what  seemed  the  dried-up  bed  of  a  small  stream,  beneath  a 
walk  of  trees,  and  brought  us  to  where  the  path  turned  to  the 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAFvE,    JR.  43 

celebrated  urn.  A  falling  tree  has  started  it  from  its  place, 
but  it  is  still  whole.  The  inscription  has  been  renewed  sev- 
eral times,  and  the  effect  of  time  has  been  to  present  a  part  of 
several  of  the  successive  renewals,  so  that  nothing  is  seen  but 
a  confused  mass  of  letters.  But  I  am  not  sure  that  the  effect  of 
the  whole  scene  is  not  more  beautiful  and  touching,  from  the 
dilapidated  condition  of  this  and  all  the  other  memorijils  of  its 
departed  author. 

"  Turning  to  the  left,  we  continued  to  ascend,  and  found  the 
walk  of  trees  becoming  a  grove.  At  the  top  of  the  hill  are  the 
ruins  of  a  small  Gothic  temple,  built  of  brick,  and  covered 
with  mortar,  entirely  filled  with  the  sparkling  refuse  of  melted 
glass.  In  front  of  this,  there  had  evidently  been  left  an  open- 
ing amid  the  trees,  through  which  was  seen  a  very  extensive 
prospect  of  a  various  and  rich  country,  with  the  village  of 
Hales-Owen.  We  passed  on  a  little  further,  when  the  grove 
ended,  and  a  row  of  trees  led  us  down  the  hill  by  an  abrupt 
turn  to  the  left,  and  we  soon  crossed  the  field  to  near  where 
we  entered  it.  We  here  encountered  the  stream  again,  and 
found  the  remains  of  a  fine  bathing-house,  now  covered  with 
ivy.  We  had  been  walking  an  hour,  had  probably  discovered 
all  that  was  best  worth  seeing,  were  tired,  and  therefore 
returned  to  the  carriage. 

"  AVe  could  not  help  expressing  our  displeasure,  that  such  a 
place  should  have  been  allowed  to  become  a  desert ;  and  Ave 
remarked,  with  a  good  deal  of  interest,  that  the  elegant  taste 
of  a  retired  man,  who  probably  looked  no  further  than  to  his 
own  amusement  and  the  occupation  of  his  leisure,  should  have 
imparted  to  this  little  spot  so  permanent  an  interest,  that  for 
seventy  years  it  has  continued  to  be  a  place  of  pilgrimage." 

ROBERT    HALL. 
(Journal,  May  24.) 
"  The  congregation  was  assembled,  but  no  minister.     By 
and  by  a  poor-looking  body,  from  a  pew  on  the  left  of  the  pul- 


44  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

pit,  rose  and  gave  out  a  psalm.  It  was  only  when  the  last 
verse  was  singing,  that  a  minister  appeared.  He  was  a  large 
man,  bald,  with  a  gray  head,  and  heavy  frame  and  counte- 
nance. He  began  the  service  with  reading  the  Scriptures,  in 
a  low,  weak,  thick  voice,  which  he  often  was  obliged  to  clear, 
and  which  he  seemed  to  exert  with  difficulty.  Then  followed 
the  prayer,  in  which  was  nothing  striking ;  and  it  was  nearly 
finished  before  I  could  make  up  my  mind  that  this  was  Robert 
Hall,  and  then  only  by  reasoning,  that  in  such  a  chapel  I 
should  be  likely  to  find  no  one  else  so  simple  and  so  perfectly 
correct  in  the  use  of  language.  His  sermon  was  from  the  text, 
'  Lead  us  not  into  temptation,' — a  plain,  unpretending  talk, 
without  any  attempt  to  quit  the  most  obvious  topics,  or  to 
adorn  them  with  any  flights  of  rhetoric  or  imagination.  He 
merely  spoke  right  on,  pouring  out  a  most  rapid  torrent  of 
well-selected  words,  and  exhibiting  a  superior  mind  only  by 
the  richness  and  accuracy  of  this  spontaneous  expression,  the 
perfect  lucidness  of  the  whole  arrangement,  and  the  complete- 
ness with  w*hich  every  part  w^as  finished,  so  as  naturally  to 
introduce  the  next.  His  manner  is  very  quiet ;  no  action  ; — 
he  lifted  his  hand  but  once,  I  think,  and  then  but  just  raised  it 
from  the  cushion.  No  effort  to  manage  his  voice  ;  no  look- 
ing about ;  but  sometimes  he  turned  his  eye  a  little,  and  those 
who  can  see  it  say  it  is  strong  and  impressive. 

"  On  the  whole,  nothing  could  be  more  different  from  the 
idea  which  I  had  formed.  I  thought  that  his  elevated  style  of 
composition  indicated  the  ore  rotundo  in  delivery  ;  and  I  had 
dressed  him  out  with  a  loud  voice,  and  a  great  deal  of  flowing, 
energetic  action.  True,  I  did  not  hear  one  of  his  great  eflx)rts  ; 
but  I  was  told  his  manner  is  never  different.  So  uncertain  a 
thing  is  eloquence,  and  so  differently  does  it  display  itself  in 
different  persons.  It  was  delightful  to  hear  the  strong  terms  of 
admiration  in  which  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Carpenter  speak  of  him, 
uninfluenced  by  the  violent  abuse  which  he  has  lavished  on 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  45 

Unitarians.     I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  this  candor  in  Eng- 
land." 

PAINTINGS  AT  BURLEIGH  HOUSE. 
(Journal,  June  22.) 
"  The  multitude  of  pictures  was  amazing,  and  Guido,  Domi- 
nichino,  Rembrandt,  RafTaelle,  Salvator  Rosa,  presented  their 
beauties  and  wonders  at  every  turn.  But  the  glory  of  all  was 
lost  in  the  head  of  the  Saviour,  by  Carlo  Dolci.  This  we 
stood  and  looked  at,  as  if  it  were  really  the  holy  person  pres- 
ent ;  such  truth  and  reality  were  in  the  whole  thing.  The 
idea  is  taken  from  the  letter  of  Lentulus  to  the  Roman  senator. 
The  figure  represents  the  blessing  of  the  bread  and  wine ;  the 
cup  is  in  one  hand,  the  loaf  in  the  other,  the  eyes  uplifted,  and 
the  mouth  open.  I  never  before  believed  that  a  figure  of  the 
Saviour  could  be  drawn  so  as  to  satisfy  me ;  but  I  found  it 
here.  I  never  before  saw  a  picture  which  made  me  feel ; 
but  I  found  myself  in  tears  as  I  looked  at  this.  I  experienced 
the  same  sort  of  thrilling  emotion,  which  I  have  felt  sometimes 
at  an  eloquent  discourse.  Mary  agreed  with  me ;  and  we 
were  convinced,  from  the  manner  in  which  the  attendant 
retired  and  left  us  to  contemplate  it  in  silence,  that  the  effect 
upon  us  was  not  singular.  Indeed,  it  is  a  miracle  of  art;  it 
has  revealed  to  me  a  power  which  I  did  not  suppose  art  to 
possess;  and  the  perfection  of  the  work  is  such,  that,  like  the 
Madonna  at  Cambridge,  which  I  mentioned  before,  it  may  be 
approached  within  a  few  inches  without  destroying  the  illusion. 
Even  the  eye  remains  a  living  eye." 

WORDSWORTH. 
(Journal,  July  13.) 
"  Mr.  Wordsworth  lives  at  Rydal  Mount,  a  small  but  steep 
hill  about  a  mile  from  Ambleside,  offering  beautiful  and  pictur- 
esque views  of  the  lake,  village,  and  hills,  and  being  on  the 
whole  as  pretty  and  appropriate  a  retirement  as  a  poet  would 


46  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

choose.  Himself,  wife,  son,  and  daughter  made  the  family ; 
and  they  received  us  very  pleasantly,  to  a  pleasant  and  copious 
breakfast.  He  is  a  venerable,  gray-headed  man,  of  a  good 
head  and  face,  very  small  eyes,  and  pleasant  smile,  which  he 
does  not  often  use.  His  conversation  was,  as  has  been  repre- 
sented, flowing  and  rich,  running  on  copiously,  and  sometimes 
enveloped  in  so  many  intricacies  of  speech  and  parenthetical 
members,  as  to  be  quite  obscure,  as  is  somewhat  the  case  with 
his  poetry.  But  he  has  a  great  deal  of  fine  diction,  as  well 
as  lofty  thought,  and  the  three  hours  passed  away  dehghtfully 
and  rapidly. 

"  He  spoke  with  interest  of  America  and  its  institutions  ;  and 
was  particularly  anxious  to  know  whether  the  provisions  for 
religious  instruction  were  adequate  to  the  growing  population, 
and  what  would  be  the  consequence  of  leaving  it  to  the  voluntary 
contributions  of  the  people.  He  seemed  inclined  to  rather  dark 
views  of  the  prospects  of  England,  and  spoke  freely  of  errors 
of  government,  of  the  deplorable  want  of  right  education  in  the 
higher  classes,  and  the  sad  deficiencies  of  the  Universities. 
Though  he  allowed  that  something  better  is  doing  in  them 
than  in  time  past,  still  he  thought  it  was  too  much  in  general, 
and  not  enough  with  a  view  to  the  qualifying  for  the  actual 
callings  and  exigencies  of  life.  That  everything  relating  to 
education  should  be  connected  with  religious  principle,  and 
should  regard  man  as  an  immortal  being,  is  a  thought  he  dwelt 
upon  earnestly. 

"  He  talked  a  good  deal  of  the  superficial  character  of 
modern  literature,  and  of  the  comparative  advantages  of  the 
Italian  and  English  languages,  as  regards  poetry ;  saying  that 
the  natural  music  of  the  former  had  tended  to  satisfy  their 
poets  with  little  thought  and  sentiment,  and  the  roughness  of 
the  latter  had  driven  them  to  compensate,  by  weight  and  rich- 
ness of  thought,  for  the  ruggedness  of  the  diction.  Dante  was 
the  only  Italian  who  had  not  suffered  from  this  cause.  And 
it  would  be  quite  as  difficult  to  translate  English  poetry  into 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,'   JR.  47 

Italian,  as  Italian  into  English  ;  for  example,  they  had  no  words 
which  could  convey  Coleridge's  '  Ancient  Mariner.'  He  had 
much  to  say  of  the  old  institutions  of  England,  both  in  Church 
and  State,  and  evidently  holds  them  very  dear.  AVhen  I 
spoke  to  him  of  our  early  acquaintance  with  '  We  are  Seven," 
he  said  it  was  frequently  mentioned  to  him.  He  has  a  great 
quantity  of  manuscripts  ready  for  the  press,  but  says  he  cannot 
tell  when  he  shall  publish  ;  poetry  is  a  drug,  and  readers  are 
not  ready  for  anything  solid." 

SOUTHEY. 

(Journal,  July  13.) 

*'  About  seven,  we  went  to  his  house,  called  Greta  Hall, 
half  a  mile  from  town,  standing  on  an  eminence,  about  as 
great  as  that  on  which  Mr.  Norton's  house  stands,  and  having 
a  path  to  it  through  an  extensive  nursery-garden.  The  site 
is  very  commanding,  overlooking  the  whole  vale  and  affording 
noble  views  of  the  high  mountains  which  environ  it ;  Skid'daw 
rising  near  it  just  behind.  It  is,  however,  more  like  the  ele- 
gant villa  of  a  wealthy  gentleman,  than  the  romantic  seclusion 
of  a  poet.  We  found  him,  unfortunately,  at  tea  with  several 
friends ;  however,  he  took  me  to  a  sofa  in  one  corner  and 
devoted  himself  entirely  to  me, 

"  Southey  is  fifty-five  j^ears  old,  (he  showed  me  a  portrait  of 
himself  taken  at  two  years  of  age, — fifty-three  years  ago, — a 
round-faced,  bright-eyed  child,  with  a  tremendous  bush  of  hair, 
—he  seems  to  have  been  always  an  Absalom  in  this  respect) ; 
he  looks  ten  years  younger ;  was  dressed  in  white  pantaloons  ; 
has  a  most  aquiline  nose,  bright  eyes,  thick,  bushy  hair;  is  of 
middling  size,  blushes  easily,  and  has  a  very  sensitive  face  ;  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears  several  times  during  our  conversation. 
He  does  not  dissertate,  nor  at  all  attempt  to  show  off,  but  talks 
on  easily  and  naturally,  in  an  affable  and  gentlemanlike  way. 

"  He  did  not,  any  more  than  Wordsworth,  disguise  his  par- 
tialities in  politics  or  religion,  and,  as  regards  the  Catholic 


48  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

question,  declared  that  he  would  sooner  have  laid  his  head  on 
the  block,  than  have  voted  for  the  late  measures  of  government. 
AVordsworth  had  put  it  on  this  ground,  that  the  discontents  of 
Ireland  did  not  originate  in  the  religious  disabilities,  and  there- 
fore could  not  be  removed  by  removing  them.  From  Ireland 
he  (Southey)  came  to  America.  He  spoke  in  terms  of  friendly 
interest ;  rejoiced  that  the  more  frequent  intercourse  was  remov- 
ing ill-will  and  jealousies ;  and  said  that  he  had  more  friends 
in  Boston,  than  in  any  city  of  the  world,  excepting  London, 
and  that,  if  he  were  a  younger  man,  he  should  visit  America, 
and  see  for  himself  the  condition  and  prospects  of  society. 

"  In  speaking  of  his  situation,  I  remarked  that  he  seemed 
to  be  both  in  retirement  and  in  the  midst  of  the  world.  To 
which  he  replied,  that,  for  the  three  summer  months,  he  was 
full  of  company  and  saw  all  his  friends,  and  for  the  other  nine 
was  wholly  secluded  ;  and  that  he  could  not  desire  a  happier 
arrangement ;  that  the  summer  days  were  too  long  for  study ; 
he  could  work  only  by  candle-light,  and  if  he  could  have  three 
hours,  from  half  past  six  to  half  past  nine,  he  would  not  care 
what  became  of  the  rest  of  the  day.  Something  led  him  to 
speak  of  writing  by  dictation,  and  he  said  he  never  had  done 
it,  neither  was  ever  able  to  employ  another  person  in  any  way 
about  his  works,  except  some  trifling  copying.  I  asked  if  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  copying  for  the  press,  or  if  he  sent  his  first 
draught.  He  said  he  generally  copied,  always  what  was  im- 
portant, and  that  it  was  only  in  making  the  copy  that  he  paid 
the  slightest  regard  to  style.  He  then  showed  me  his  '  History 
of  Brazil,'  in  the  progress  of  its  manufacture ;  bound  up  in  six 
manuscript  volumes,  containing,  first,  the  notes  and  materials 
put  down  while  reading  for  the  preparation,  and,  secondly,  the 
history  as  first  written.  The  copy  which  the  printer  used  was 
destroyed.  Then  he  showed  me  '  Thalaba,'  the  second 
draught ;  the  first  was  written  on  scraps ;  these  were  copied 
into  a  book,  on  every  other  page,  corrections  made  on  the 
page  opposite,  and  a  copy  from  this  sent  to  the  printer,  and 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    AVARE,  JR.  49 

destroyed.  '  Madoc'  and  '  The  Curse  of  Kahama'  are  in  the 
same  state ;  the  latter  has  three  different  beginnings  in  three 
different  sorts  of  verse. 

"  Then  he  showed  me  his  unfinished  American  Poem, 
called  '  Oliver  Newman,'  which  is  promised  to  Mr.  Ticknor; 
and  he  bade  me  report  progress  to  him.  He  read  me  a  pas- 
sage, which  I  liked  much,  but  we  were  interrupted  in  the 
midst.  He  reads  with  a  very  peculiar  intonation,  which  is, 
however,  favorable  to  the  metre,  and  not  a  bad  specimen  of 
poetical  recitative ;  and  occasionally  he  gesticulates  with  his 
arm.  I  afterwards  read  the  opening  canto,  and  thought  it 
very  beautiful,— as  beautiful  as  the  first  in  '  Thalaba.'  I 
asked  him  by  what  process  he  built  his  stories  ;  whether  he 
laid  out  the  whole  plan  first,  or  invented  as  he  went  on.  He 
said,  that  he  made  the  story  complete  at  first,  and  altered  as 
he  went  on,  just  as  they  build  cathedrals." 


SECOND   VISIT    TO    SOUTHEY. 

"  I  found  him  in  his  room,  reading  letters ;  a  room  stored  with 
books,  as  I  believe  all  in  his  house  are.  He  has  the  largest 
library,  it  is  said,  of  any  private  man  of  his  fortune,  in  Europe. 
Many  books  are  curious  and  rare  ;  there  is  especially  a  large 
collection  of  Roman  Catholic  works.  Our  conversation  turned 
much,  this  morning,  on  the  state  and  prospects  of  the  age, 
about  which  he  is  fearful  and  doubtful.  He  looks  with  great 
hope  to  the  improving  education  of  the  lower  classes,  in  which 
he  differs  from  Wordsworth,  who  fears  that  they  are  raised 
too  fast,  unless  you  first  elevate  the  mental  and  moral  cultiva- 
tion of  the  higher  classes.  He  read  to  me  a  letter  from  Dr. 
Gouch,  the  King's  Librarian,  detailing  a  new  project  just 
commenced  by  the  poor  for  their  own  improvement.  They 
subscribe  a  certain  sum  annually,  which  is  laid  out  in  land  and 
workshops,  upon  which  they  employ  their  own  labor  and 
realize  a  profit.     Thus  their  means  increase  every  year  by  the 

VOL.  11.  5 


60  LIFE  OF  he;nry  ware,  jr. 

profits  of  work  and  by  subscriptions.  Seventy  such  associa- 
tions are  in  prosperous  operation,  and  are  fast  extending  their 
influence. 

*'  He  read  me  a  letter  from  the  author  of  '  Zillah,'  disclosing 
a  fact  worth  knowing  in  the  history  of  modern  literature. 
Southey  had  objected  to  the  work  its  too  great  bustle  and 
over  excitement.  Smith  replied,  that  it  had  been  his  endeavor 
to  avoid  this  by  introducing  views  and  descriptions  of  Jewish 
society  and  manners  ;  but  that  all  this  had  been  stricken  out 
by  the  supervisors  whom  the  bookseller  employs,  and  who 
allow  nothing  to  pass  which  is  merely  instructive.  A  pretty 
piece  of  despotism,  truly;  and  so  the  taste  of  readers  is  not  to 
be  amended  !  I  was  glad  to  hear  this,  however ;  because  I 
had  opened  the  book  with  the  hope  of  finding  these  very 
things,  and  had  thought  it  a  great  error,  that  they  had  been 
neglected.  But  I  think  Smith  should  employ  another  book- 
seller. Southey's  publisher  writes  to  him  respecting  his  late 
work  on  *  The  Prospects  of  Society,*  that  the  sale  has  been 
good ;  but  wishes  he  had  omitted  the  consideration  of  Politics 
and  Religion,  as  the  sale  would  then  have  been  ten  times 
greater.  Good  !  the  prospects  of  society  discussed,  and  no 
notice  taken  of  Politics  and  Religion !  A  modest  request, 
says  Southey. 

"As  the  Unitarians  have  accused  Southey  of  misleading 
Dr,  Channing  in  regard  to  them,  I  was  desirous  of  inducing 
him  to  speak  of  them.  He  seemed,  however,  unwilling  to  say 
much,  merely  observing,  that  those  whom  he  had  known 
were  most  excellent  men  ;  that  the  system  in  England  was 
Humanitarianism,  and  a  very  cold  one  ;  and  he  seemed  sur- 
prised to  hear  that  there  are  many  Arians  in  London.  He 
had  allowed,  that  there  has  been  great  improvement  recently 
in  the  character  and  manners  of  the  clergy  of  the  establish- 
ment;  and  I  assured  him,  that  I  had  found  the  Unitarians 
sensible  of  a  similar  improvement  among  themselves.  When 
I  remarked  on  tlie  want  of  institutions  for  the  express  educa- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR.  51 

tion  of  the  clergy,  I  was  surprised  to  hear  him  say,  that  they 
thought  it  best  in  England  not  to  give  them  a  peculiar  educa- 
tion, lest  it  should  create  too  much  of  an  esprit  de  corps,  and 
make  them  feel  themselves  a  privileged  order.  I  little  expected 
any  such  objection  from  so  zealous  a  member  of  the  establish- 
ment and  so  determined  an  upholder  of  its  immunities." 

TRAVELLING   IN    IRELAND. 
(Journal,  August  8.) 

"  The  road  from  Newry  to  Dublin,  sixty-two  (or  fifty  Irish) 
miles,  is  run  daily  by  one-horse  cars,  carrying  six  passengers ; 
or  any  one  may  post  it  in  these  cars  at  any  time,  a  fresh  horse 
every  eight  miles,  by  paying  the  full  price  of  the  six  seats, 
that  is,  twenty  cents  a  mile.  These  cars  are  the  most  exqui- 
site Irishism  we  have  seen,  and,  being  such  as  are  used  in 
place  of  chaises  by  gentlemen  and  families,  richly  deserve 
description.  A  jaunting-car,  then,  is  of  two  kinds,  the  Inside 
and  the  Outside ;  of  which  two  let  me  gravely  speak  in 
order. 

"  The  Inside-Car  is  most  genteel,  but  far  less  common.  If 
designed  to  carry  four  persons,  it  is  of  the  shape  and  dimen- 
sions of  a  large  washing-tub,  with  seats  on  the  opposite  sides, 
so  that  the  passengers  sit  facing  one  another,  and  with  their 
sides  to  the  horse.  If  to  carry  six,  the  shape  changes  to  that 
of  a  huge  dough-trough,  wherein  careful  housewives  knead 
for  the  baking ;  and  they  are  arranged  three  and  three,  face  to 
face,  as  before.  The  driver  is  placed  on  a  little  dichj  in  front. 
But  the  Outside-Car  is  Paddy's  glory,  and  hardly  any  other 
is  seen  on  this  road.  The  wheels  are  as  small  as  the  front 
wheels  of  the  little  wagon  called  Dearborn  among  us.  Above 
them  is  suspended  the  vehicle,  which,  being  like  nothing  else 
that  ever  went  on  wheels,  must  perforce  be  compared  to  a 
creature  of  some  other  element.  Imagine,  therefore,  (to  use 
my  wife's  similitude,)  a  dining-table,  turned  upside  down,  the 
legs  cut  off,  and  swung  above  the  aforesaid  v/heels,  and  two  or 


52  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE,    JK. 

three  ragged  Irishmen  seated  on  the  topsy-turv^y  leaves,  with 
their  legs  dangling  down  over  the  wheels.  Or  suppose  (which 
is  my  similitude)  two  settees  placed  back  to  back,  over  the 
wheels,  and  the  said  Irish  legs  dangling  dowTi  as  aforesaid.  I 
can  think  of  nothing  else,  that  will  give  nearly  so  correct  an 
idea  of  this  machine,  in  which  so  many  of  this  jolly  land  are 
daily  shaken  and  joggled,  to  the  imminent  danger  of  being 
pitched  forward  upon  their  pates. 

"Behold,  then,  Mary  and  I  hoisted  up  on  one  of  these 
table-leaves,  each  grasping  an  iron  railing  with  one  hand  and 
the  cushion  with  the  other,  like  John  Gilpin  in  the  poem,  and 
grunting  at  every  shake,  which  threatens  to  shake  us  out  into 
the  street,  while  the  driver  occupies  the  opposite  scale  as  a 
make- weight  or  counterpoise,  and  leaves  his  own  lofty  seat 
unoccupied.  Thus  we  rode  over  fifty  mortal  Irish  miles,  up 
and  down,  between  eleven  in  the  forenoon  and  ten  in  the 
evening ;  at  which  hour  we  were  landed  at  •  the  best  inn  in 
Dublin,'  as  the  driver  assured  us,  bruised  and  sore,  to  be  eaten 
by  fleas  while  asleep,  and  to  be  wakened  twice  before  morning 
by  watchmen  and  quarrels  in  the  street.  This  said  driver 
was  apparently  the  identical  Larry  of  '  The  Absentee ' ;  at  any 
rate  as  like  him,  as  the  image  of  himself  which  poor  Rip  Van 
Winkle  saw,  when  he  came  home  from  the  mountain.  When 
he  had  once  driven  us  furiously  over  a  rough  passage  for  half 
a  mile,  and  almost  made  us  breathless  with  the  agitation  of 
head  and  legs,  he  slackened  as  he  came  to  a  hill,  and,  turn- 
ing to  us  just  like  Larry,  said,  '  Was  not  that  a  pretty  bit  of  a 
drive?'  He  talked  of  himself  and  his  horses  in  most  good- 
natured  eulogy,  and,  when  he  proposed  going  with  us  himself 
into  Dublin,  told  us  '  we  might  find  a  man  dacenter  dressed, 
but  we  could  not  find  a  pleasanter,  he  was  sure.'  I  think  he 
<ipoke  the  truth." 


LIFE    OF    HENIIY   WARE,    JR.  53 


to  professor  norton. 

"  Dublin,  August  14,  1829. 

"  I  think  you  will  be  pleased  to  hear  from  me,  that  your 
kind  letter  to  Miss  Edgeworth  has  procured  for  us  a  ready 
welcome  and  a  delightful  visit.  We  enclosed  it  to  her,  and 
sent  it  from  Belfast,  with  a  request  to  be  informed  whether 
she  would  be  at  home ;  as  we  thought  it  not  worth  while  to 
drive  sixty  miles  into  the  heart  of  Ireland  with  the  risk  of 
'  finding  her  absent,'— an  old  College  bull,  v/hich  very  properly 
presents  itself  at  this  moment.  Her  reply  w^as  a  very  gracious 
one,  and  we  passed  nearly  two  days  at  Edgeworthstown  this 
week,  she  seeming  pleased  with  the  attention,  but  the  other 
members  of  the  family  still  more  so,  as  they  seem  to  be  more 
proud  of  her  than  she  is  of  herself;  and  we  were  exceedingly 
gratified  by  everything  we  saw  and  heard. 

"  Her  manners  are  easy  and  animated,  without  being 
striking ;  her  conversation  very  lively  and  rich,  with  a  great 
variety  of  fine  sentiments  carelessly  thrown  out,  and  perpetual 
illustrations  and  images,  sometimes  highly  poetical,  sometimes 
humorous,  sometimes,  perhaps,  a  little  far-fetched,  but  ahvays 
apparently  accidental,  and  always  rendering  her  talk  delight- 
ful. She  is  too  rapid  and  earnest  to  talk  in  set  phrases,  or  to 
have  any  afiectation  ;  and,  as  to  a  masculine  way,  which  some 
have  ascribed  to  her,  it  seems  to  me  there  is  nothing  anti-fem- 
inine about  her,  unless  it  be  to  talk  a  great  deal,  and  occasion- 
ally to  laugh  heartily.  But  she  does  not  talk  loud  and  bois- 
terously ;  and  her  laugh  so  '  rings  from  the  soul,'  that  even  I, 
who  laugh  seldom,  and  am  apt  to  be  put  out  of  countenance 
by  a  violent  ebullition  of  that  human  pecuharity  in  others, 
could  yet  entirely  sympathize  with  Miss  Edgeworth,  and 
wholly  enjoy  it;— for  she  has  the  discretion  withal  never  to 
laugh  long,  (a  discretion,  by  the  way,  to  be  recommended  to 
all  who  would  make  their  mirth  acceptable,)  and  does  not  laugh 
from  habit,  but  only  when  rightfully  excited  by  sufficient  cause. 

VOL.  II.  5^ 


54  LIFE    OF    HEiNRY    WARE,    JR. 

And  I  am  sure  it  would  be  hard  to  find  fault  -vvith  her  for 
laughing,  who  has  occasioned  so  much  exercise  of  that  sort  to 
others. 

"  I  was  pleased  to  notice  perpetual  proofs  of  great  strength 
of  feeling,  and  that  of  the  most  amiable  kind.  She  drew  us 
to  her  by  this  trait,  and  fairly  compelled  our  love.  It  was  not 
infrequently,  that  we  observed  her  eyes  fill  at  the  expression 
of  a  generous  sentiment,  or  the  relation  of  a  touching  anec- 
dote. When  I  told  her  that,  on  my  saying  at  my  father's 
that  I  intended  to  see  her,  little  Charlotte  immediately  clapped 
her  hands  and  said,  '  0  give  my  love  to  her ! '  the  water  came 
to  her  eyes  at  once; — and  it  is  plain,  that  she  has  practically 
all  the  love  for  children,  and  solicitude  for  their  good,  which 
are  expressed  in  her  works.  She  evinced  it  constantly  in  her 
treatment  of  her  younger  brother.  Then  we  were  very  much 
struck  and  pleased  with  the  manner  in  which  she  spoke  of 
other  authors, — so  kindly  and  generously,  so  free  from  all 
petty  feelings  of  jealousy,  or  w^hatever  other  evil  emotion  there 
may  be ;  saying  only  what  was  kind,  and  taking  pains  to  tell 
Lady  Morgan's  story  in  such  a  way  as  to  apologize  for  her 
affectations,  and  give  us  a  better  opinion  of  her  character. 
Of  Scott  she  had  much  to  say,  and  read  to  us  several  of  his 
very  interesting  letters.  On  the  whole,  not  to  prolong,  we 
were  highly  gratified  and  satisfied,  and  not  the  less  so, 
because  we  found  we  were  the  first  Americans,  if  we  rightly 
understood  her,  who  had  paid  her  a  visit  at  her  own  house. 

"  This  is  only  one  chapter  out  of  a  ver}^  interesting  tour 
which  we  have  made  in  Ireland.  No  part  of  our  journey 
have  we  enjoyed  more.  Belfast  and  Dublin  were  full  of  busi- 
ness and  excitement  to  us,  owing  to  the  present  state  of  reli- 
gious parties,  and  the  organization,  which  is  now  making,  of 
the  Unitarian  body.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  talent  and  zeal 
coming  into  action  in  the  best  way,  and  I  feel  myself  favored 
to  have  been  on  the  spot  at  this  moment.  One  particularly 
interesting  occurrence  has  been  my  visit  to  Mr.  Armstrong, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE,   JR.  55 

once  a  clergyman  of  the  establishment,  who  has  thrown  up 
his  living  because  of  his  growing  dislike  to  Orthodoxy.  I 
found  a  letter  from  him  in  Dublin,  inviting  me,  as  an  Ameri- 
can, a  Unitarian,  and  a  friend  of  Dr.  Channing,  to  visit  him; 
and,  as  his  house  is  but  twenty-five  miles  from  Edgeworths- 
town,  we  took  it  in  our  route.  He  is  a  fine  scholar,  and  a 
man  of  talents,  frankness,  and  ardent  zeal,— aged  about  forty, 
— intimate  with  American  history,  partial  to  our  country,  and 
enthusiastic  in  his  admiration  of  Dr.  Channing,  who  can  tell 
you  more  about  him,  as  he  has  written  to  him.  It  is  wonder- 
ful what  a  sensation  Dr.  Channing's  writings  have  made  in 
these  realms.  Everybody  talks  of  them  with  enthusiasm ; 
and,  among  his  most  ardent  admirers,  1  have  found  a  minister 
of  the  Scotch  kirk  and  an  Episcopalian  lawyer.  The  latter 
declared,  that  to  Dr.  Channing  he  owes  it  that  he  is  a  Chris- 
tian, and  that  he  knows  many  of  whom  the  same  may  be 
said." 

TO    HIS    BROTHER   JOHN. 

"  DuNSHAGLiN,  Ireland,  August  15,  1829. 
.  .  .  .  "  In  my  last  of  July  ISth,  I  believe  I  was 
complaining  of  feeling  ill,  &c. ;  I  can  novv'  speak  more  favora- 
bly. I  fancy  that  I  have  fairly  taken  a  step  in  advance,  and, 
as  well  as  I  can  compare,  am  about  where  I  was  when  I  did 
myself  mischief  at  Brooklyn.  But  I  have,  with  advice  and 
consent  of  council,  fully  determined  not  to  come  home  this 
fall ;  and  I  believe  that  my  friends  will  need  few  words  to 
convince  them  that  I  am  right.  I  am  as  anxious  as  any  one 
to  be  at  home,  and  at  work  again  ;  and,  perhaps,  I  might  go  on 
with  my  duties  this  winter  tolerably  well.  But  I  am  sure  that 
I  could  not  do  my  best ;  I  could  not  devote  myself  to  the 
office  with  the  diligence  which  would  be  necessary  for  the  best 
and  the  successful  performance  of  its  duties,  and  I  might  ere 
long  break  down  again.  By  continuing  my  present  course, 
there  is  a  possibility  that  I  may  become  quite  strong ;  and  I 


56  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JK. 

think  it  would  be  better  to  go  to  my  Avork  with  my  full  powers 
a  year  later,  with  the  prospect  of  a  longer  life,  than  to  do  work 
feebly  during  that  year  and  perhaps  shorten  life  by  it.  I  have 
no  ambition  to  be  a  martyr  in  any  sense.  I  have  as  many 
reasons  for  wishing  to  live  as  most  men ;  and  I  do  not  think 
that  those,  to  whom  I  am  accountable,  will  think  that  I  am 
wrong  in  my  present  determination.  I  certainly  owe  a  great 
deal  to  others,  and  I  hope  I  may  be  permitted  to  live  long 
enough  to  pay  something  of  the  debt." 

to  the  rev.  dr.  carpenter. 

"  London,  August  24,  1829. 
"  Every  part  of  my  tour  has  given  me  plea- 
sure, and  I  have  hardly  experienced  a  disappointment,  except- 
ing that  of  finding  too  much  rain  in  the  Highlands,  too  much 
cold  everywhere,  and  Walter  Scott  not  at  home.  I  have  seen 
as  much  of  our  religious  brethren  as  I  possibly  could,  have 
been  most  kindly  received  by  them  everywhere,  and  have 
been  most  favorably  impressed  by  them  in  general.  It  would 
be  idle  to  say,  and  no  one  would  believe  me  if  I  should  say  it, 
that  I  have  seen  nothing  which  I  could  imagine  might  be 
better ;  but  I  have  been  most  truly  gratified  upon  the  whole, 
not  only  with  the  present  state  of  sentiment  and  feeling,  but 
with  the  prospects  of  improvement,  which  are  evident.  I 
passed  a  fortnight  in  Ireland  with  great  satisfaction.  The 
slate  of  things  among  our  brethren  is  full  of  interest  and  life, 
and  I  believe  they  are  wide  awake  to  the  call  of  the  times,  and 
fully  equal  to  the  emergency.  There  are  fine  spirits  among 
them ;  and  I  shall  be  greatly  disappointed  if  the  action  which 
seems  to  be  beginning  there,  do  not  have  most  salutary  influ- 
ences both  in  England  and  America.  The  Irish  are  very 
favorably  disposed  towards  their  brethren  in  both  countries. 
I  mean  the  leading  men ;  for  you  are  aware,  that  the  multi- 
tude have  rather  held  back  from  English  communion,  under 
the  idea  that  Unitarianism  here  is  exclusive  and  ultra ;  and 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  bl 

this  feeling  is  yet  to  be  removed.  The  principal  men  are 
doing  what  they  may  to  remove  it ;  and,  when  it  is  found  that 
the  EngUsh  are  seriously  abandoning  the  narrow  interpreta- 
tions of  Unitarianism,  and  look  complacently  and  with  bro- 
therly kindness  on  Arianism,  then  will  be  seen  a  cordial  union 
and  cooperation.     This  is  most  devoutly  to  be  wished." 

to  his  brother  william. 

"  Utrecht,  September  3. 
"  I  write  to  you  for  once,  not  only  with  a  Dutch  quill,  but 
with  Dutch  ink,  on  a  Dutch  table,  and  by  the  light  of  Dutch 
candles.  You  have  heard  of  our  pilgrimages  through  '  Father- 
land,' and  how,  from  the  circumition  of  Scotland  and  Ireland, 
we  returned  to  the  overgrown  City  on  the  21st  of  August. 
There  we  passed  a  week  in  preparation  for  our  winter's  cam- 
paign, and  in  visiting  our  few  friends  whom  the  summer  had 
not  rusticated.  This  being  done,  our  supernumerary  and 
wayworn  clothing,  &c.,  being  packed  away,  that  we  might  not 
'  ingredi  Italiam  impediti,''  our  new  and  appropriate  dresses 
provided,  our  maps  purchased,  and  our  French  accent  re-bur- 
nished, we  sailed  in  the  good  steam-ship  King  of  the  Nether- 
lands^ (a  packet  which  is  half  as  large  as  the  smallest  on  Hud- 
son river,  and  very  indifferently  appointed,)  on  Saturday, 
August  29th,  at  ten  in  the  forenoon.  Our  passage  was  one 
of  the  roughest,  and  we  were  two  of  the  sickest;  but  we 
reached  Rotterdam  about  dark  the  next  evening,  were  quietly 
suffered  to  slip  through  the  custom-house,  and  remained  till 
next  day,  at  four  in  the  afternoon.  Our  first  impressions  of 
Holland  were  extremely  pleasant.  The  houses  are  high,  of 
small  bricks,  neatly  painted,  and  with  large  windows.  Canals 
pass  through  the  centre  of  many  of  the  streets,  filled  wdth  ves- 
sels and  business.  The  streets  are  paved  with  small  square 
stones,  flanked  with  brick,  but  no  curb-stone.  There  are  large 
trees  on  the  sides  of  the  canals,  from  end  to  end  of  the  streets, 
having  a  most  pleasant  and  cheerful  appearance  ;  and  a  kind 


68  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

and  degree  of  cleanliness  throughout,  such  as  I  never  saw  else- 
where, or  had  formed  any  idea  of.  Your  first  and  perpetual 
remark  is,  'How  clean!  how  neat!'  I  never  saw  a  clean 
house  or  clean  street  before.  I  did  not  know  what  cleanliness 
meant.  This  is  particularly  the  case  at  Rotterdam  and  the 
Hague.  Amsterdam  is  less  remarkable  ;  indeed,  in  great  part, 
is  very  like  the  dirtiness  of  other  great  towns. 

•'  We  passed  through  Delft,  to  the  Hague,  Monday  night, 
in  the  canal-boat,  drawn  by  one  horse,  at  four  miles  and  a  half 
per  hour.  The  canal  is  one  third  wider  than  the  New  York 
canal ;  is  thronged  with  boats, — sail-boats  as  well  as  others, 
— and  its  banks  are  beautifully  dotted  with  gendemen's  seats 
and  plantations.  I  had  letters  to  two  gentlemen  at  the  Hague, 
but  did  not  stay  long  enough  to  see  them.  We  went  to  Ley- 
den  in  a  post-chaise  the  next  morning,  and  here,  it  being  vaca- 
tion, and  the  Professor  to  whom  I  had  a  letter,  being  absent,  I 
was  greatly  disappointed  in  not  seeing  the  appurtenances  of 
the  University.  I  barely  got  admittance  to  some  of  the  Lec- 
ture-rooms, and  the  outside  view  of  the  Library.  In  the  after- 
noon we  rode  in  a  post-chaise  to  Haerlem.  The  roads  are 
excellent,  not  wider  than  those  which  lead  through  avenues 
to  gentlemen's  houses,  paved  with  bricks,  laid  edge-wise,  very 
smooth  and  even,  and  lined  with  trees  in  such  wise  that  you 
might  think  j'-ourself  driving  through  some  jfine  park. 

"  At  Haerlem,  we  were  vexed  to  find  that  we  could  neither 
see  nor  hear  the  organ,  except  on  public  days,  without  the  pay- 
ment of  a  most  extravagant  price  ;  and,  as  we  had  neither  the 
leisure  nor  the  money,  we  were  compelled  to  leave  this  won- 
der unvisitcd.  We  saw  some  fine  paintings  ;  and  I  was  per- 
mitted to  say  a  few  words,  without  sitting  down,  to  an  old  gen- 
tleman to  whom  I  had  a  letter.  Left  Haerlem  on  Wednesday 
morning  in  the  diligence,  twelve  inside  and  three  horses 
abreast,  for  Amsterdam.  Here,  too,  the  gentleman,  a  distin- 
guished minister,  to  whom  I  had  letters,  was  absent ;  and,  after 
an  amusing  interview  of  bad  French  and  blunders  with  his 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  59 

daughter,  I  was  forced  to  cast  myself  upon  a  valet  de  place. 
We  walked  about  the  city,  whose  finest  street  is  a  row  of  pal- 
aces indeed  ;  and  visited  the  King's  palace,  once  the  Stadt- 
house,  an  immense  and  splendid  structure,  opulent  in  marble 
rooms  richly  carved,  adorned  with  sculpture  and  painting. 

"  This  morning,  Thursday,  we  came  in  the  canal-boat  to 
this  place.  The  route  was  exceedingly  beautiful,  the  banks 
lined  with  country-houses,  plantations,  groves,  and  gardens, 
with  interspersions  of  wide,  green  meadows,  crowded  with 
herds  of  black  and  white  cattle.  This  is  the  only  town  we 
have  yet  seen,  which  lies  out  of  the  water.  It  is  on  a  hill  at 
least  thirty  feet  high.  Mr.  Scheltema,  the  historian,  to  Avhom 
I  was  introduced,  speaks  as  little  and  as  bad  French  as  I  do, 
and  is  much  more  scared  at  his  own  blunders.  So,  after  a 
short  and  most  ridiculous  scene  of  grimaces  and  attitudes,  he 
rushed  over  to  a  neighbor's  and  brought  in  a  young  man,  son 
of  a  Burgomaster,  who  has  travelled,  and  speaks  English.  He 
proved  to  be  very  intelligent  and  gentlemanly,  and,  with  his 
father,  devoted  himself  to  us  for  the  afternoon.  We  saw  the 
library  of  the  University,  in  what  was  once  Lucien  Bonaparte's 
ball-room, — thirty  thousand  volumes ;  some  ancient  manu- 
scripts ;  the  Museum  also  of  natural  history  and  anatomical 
preparations,  and  wax  figures  in  comparative  anatomy,  quite 
copious  and  very  curious.  We  also  saw  the  new  barracks  for 
four  thousand  five  hundred  men,  just  built  by  this  same  Bur- 
gomaster, and  showed  to  us  by  him,  just  as  a  young  mother 
shows  her  first  child. 

*'  Holland  has  delighted  us,  little  as  w^e  have  seen  of  it.  [ 
wish  we  had  more  time  for  it ;  and.  if  Mr.  Van  Polanen's  let- 
ters had  been  received,  we  should  have  seen  it  under  much 
greater  advantaofes.  As  it  is,  we  could  not  receive  them,  since 
our  plan  to  visit  Holland  was  arranged  only  very  lately  ;  and  I 
regret  it  the  less,  because  our  time  is  so  extremely  limited. 
We  are  in  great  haste  to  be  in  Switzerland,  so  as  to  see  some- 
thing of  it,  and  cross  the  Alps,  before  snow;  and  everybody  says 


60  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

v/e  are  already  full  late,  if  we  mean  to  stop  at  Geneva,  which 
it  is  certainly  a  great  object  to  do.  We  accordingly  hasten  up 
the  Rhine.  After  eight  weeks  of  incessant  cold  and  rain,  the 
weather  begins  to  be  more  propitious,  and  we  hope  a  fair 
autumn." 

FEEDING  HORSES  IN  HOLLAND. 
(Journal,  September  4.) 
"  In  the  midst  of  the  last  stage,  which  was  a  long  one,  the 
bits  were  taken  from  the  horses'  mouths,  not,  as  with  us,  by 
stripping  the  bridle  from  their  ears,  but  much  more  sagaciously 
and  kindly,  by  unbuckling  one  side  of  the  head-stall,  and  letting 
the  bit  drop  down  of  its  own  weight.  A  large  brown  loaf  was 
taken  from  the  coachman's  box,  and  a  large  jacknife  from  his 
pocket,  and,  after  a  draught  of  water,  he  proceeded  leisurely 
and  gravely  to  slice  up  the  bread  and  put  it  into  the  mouths  of 
his  cattle." 

PASSAGE    UP    THE    RHINE. 

(Journal,  September  9.) 
"  Coblentz  has  about  ten  thousand  inhabitants,  and  is 
strongly  fortified  on  every  side.  On  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
river  is  the  fortress  of  Ehrenbreitstein,  situated  much  like  Que- 
bec, and  said  to  be  stronger ;  rebuilt  since  the  peace  of  1814. 
The  whole  scene,  as  we  parted  from  it  the  next  morning,  was 
most  imposing, — the  town  on  the  left  bank,  with  its  ancient  pal- 
ace stretching  its  long  row  by  the  water  side,  and  its  cathedral 
and  church  towers,  while  on  the  hill  behind  rose  the  extensive 
lines  of  Fort  Alexander.  Across  the  river  stretched  the  long 
and  trembling  bridge  of  boats  to  the  village  opposite,  which 
lay  beneath  the  hill  like  a  little  bunch  of  white  houses ;  and 
on  the  steep  hill  above  towered  the  new  and  strong  castle, 
whose  topmost  battlements  were  just  shining  in  the  first  rays 
of  the  rising  sun.  Here  began  the  high  lands  and  the  pictu- 
resque scenery  of  the  Rhine.     It  was  a  clear,  bright  day,  occa- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  61 

sionally  clouded  and  showering  for  a  few  minutes,  and  we 
enjoyed  highly  an  uninterrupted  succession  of  varying  heights, 
sometimes  wooded,  sometimes  bare  and  rocky ;  thickly  planted 
with  vines,  many  of  them  even  to  the  highest  point;  every 
few  miles  surmounted  by  the  ruins  of  some  ancient  castle, 
while  at  the  foot  of  the  precipices  which  they  overhung,  were 
gathered  towns  and  villages  of  a  peculiar  and  foreign  aspect. 
The  natural  scenery  is  of  itself  full  of  the  most  various  beau- 
ties ;  in  some  passages  it  might  be  compared  to  that  of  the 
Highlands  on  Hudson  river.  The  latter,  from  their  superior 
height  and  darkness,  are  perhaps  rather  more  grand  for  a  short 
distance  ;  but  the  narrow  pass  of  the  Rhine  is  constituted  of 
more  wild  and  abrupt  crags,  and  in  no  other  portion  of  the 
course  is  there  any  comparison  to  be  made.  The  Hudson  is 
tame  by  the  side  of  the  Rhine.  The  latter  river  is  crowded 
on  both  banks  with  a  succession  of  memorials  of  olden  times 
and  feudal  ruins.  On  every  most  inaccessible  cliff  is  perched 
some  mouldering  castle,  and  in  every  fertile  gap  which  opens 
through  the  hills,  stands  an  old  but  flourishing  town.  The 
hill-sides  are  waving  and  green  with  vineyards,  many  of  the 
steepest  thrown  up  into  terraces,  and  the  vines  appearing  in 
little  green  patches  among  the  rocks,  Avhere  you  would  think 
even  a  goat  would  hardly  go  to  browse.  Then  there  are  no 
fences  amid  all  this  to  break  the  landscape  to  pieces  ;  a  fine 
Toad  runs  along  the  water-side  and  on  the  edge  of  the  precipi- 
ces, to  give  you  a  view  of  the  queer  diligences  and  other  trav- 
elling equipages,  which  slowly  traverse  the  banks.  Little 
boats,  crowded  as  I  never  sav/  any  before,  shoot  down  on  the 
rapid  stream  like  meteors  ;  lazy  ships  toil  up  by  the  side, 
drawn  heavily  along  by  two  or  six  horses ;  and  self-moved 
ferry-boats  swing  like  pendulums  across  from  side  to  side." 

VOL.  IT.  6 


62  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

MILITARY    MASS    IN    STRASEURG    CATHEDRAL. 

(Journal,  September  13.) 
"  We  witnessed  the  military  mass,  where  six  thousand  sol- 
diers are  marched  into  the  nave,  and  perform  worship  to  the 
word  of  command,  and  to  the  music  of  their  band.  It  was  the 
merest  and  saddest  mockery  imaginable.  The  officers  sat 
directly  in  front  of  the  altar,  and  the  men,  who  stood  below, 
could  of  course  neither  see  nor  hear  what  was  going  on. 
They  were  very  much  engaged  in  talking  and  laughing.  A 
party  of  some  hundreds  drawn  up  in  the  centre  performed  va- 
rious evolutions  during  certain  parts  of  the  service,  and  at  cer- 
tain points  all  the  drums  were  struck  with  violence.  The 
band,  in  a  gallery  above,  played  incessantly.  A  large  con- 
course of  spectators  was  standing  around,  or  walking  to  and 
fro.  This  lasted  about  twenty  minutes.  Then  the  service  of 
the  day  ended,  and  the  military  departed.  No  sermon,  no 
instruction ;  was  there  any  worship  ?  A  separate  mass  was 
performing  at  the  same  time,  at  least  in  one,  perhaps  more,  of 
the  little  corners  of  the  building." 

INTE3IPERANCE  FROM  WINE. 
(Journal,  Geneva,  October  12.) 
"  Our  physician  (Coindet,  Senior),  is  a  man  of  sixty,  sensi- 
ble, clear-headed,  well-reputed,  and  speaks  English  ;  we  are 
greatly  pleased  to  have  such  a  man  by  us.  Speaking  of  the 
extraordinary  season  he  rejoiced  at  one  consequence,  that,  by 
destroying  the  crops,  it  will  render  wine  dear.  He  says,  there 
can  be  no  greater  curse  to  a  country  than  cheap  wine  ;  wine 
countries  are  always  poor;  excess  and  drunkenness  always 
accompany  abundance.  No  mistake,  he  says,  can  be  greater, 
than  to  suppose  there  is  little  or  no  intemperance  among  the 
peasantry  of  wine  countries.  I  told  him  that  he  was  contra- 
dicting a  favorite  notion  of  our  country,  and  he  assured  me 
that  we  should  rue  the  day  when  wine  should  become  common 
and  cheap.     I  have  before  heard  the  drunkenness  of  Switzer- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  63 

land  remarked  by  several  travellers,  but  have  seen  little  of  it 
myself,  except  so  far  as  it  has  been  indicated  by  the  crowds 
which  assemble  in  the  bar-rooms  and  wine-shops.  1  saw  a 
few  men  drunk  in  Strasburg;  and,  on  questioning  my  guide, 
he  said  they  had  been  drinking  something  stronger  than  wine, 
— beer.  Dr.  Coindet  is  a  warm  advocate  for  beer.  '  Not  ale, 
nor  porter,  but  beer.'" 

TREADING  THE  WINE-PRESS. 
(Journal,  October  30.) 
"  AVe  have  seen  to-day  a  good  deal  of  the  treading  of  the 
wine-press.  In  Vicenza,  huge  tubs  stand  on  carts  in  the 
street,  into  which  the  grapes  are  poured ;  and  one  or  two  men 
without  trowsers  walk  about  over  them  and  stand  upon  them, 
while  the  juice  runs  into  vessels  below.  In  many  cases  there 
are  no  tubs,  but  the  wagons  themselves  are  used  as  vessels. 
The  grapes  are  red,  and  we  now  understand  perfectly  the  allu- 
sions to  its  resemblance  to  blood  in  the  poets  and  ancient  wri- 
ters. These  men  looked,  for  all  the  world,  like  so  many 
butchers.  And  strange  is  it,  that  men  will  be  so  v/edded  to 
their  old  ways  as  to  continue  so  tedious,  disgusting,  and  insuf- 
ficient a  mode  of  operation,  in  preference  to  the  clean,  rapid, 
and  thorough  work  of  the  screw-press." 

canova's  hand. 
(Venice,  November  3.) 
"  In  the  Council-Chamber  of  the  Society  of  Fine  Arts,  over 
the  President's  chair,  is  placed  against  the  wall,  a  little  vase 
or  urn,  containing  Canova's  right  hand  preserved  in  spirits  of 
wine,  with  this  inscription,  '  Canov:E  dextera.'  Beneath  this 
is  supported,  on  two  little  hooks,  the  chisel  with  which  he 
wrought ;  and  underneath  is  a  neat  marble  slab,  thus  inscribed 
in  golden  letters,  '  Quod  mutui  amoris  monumentum,  idem 
gloriae  incitamentum  siet.' " 


64  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

DR.  (now  cardinal)  MEZZOFANTL 
(Journal,  Bologna,  Nov,  9.) 
"  The  Libranan  is  Dr.  Joseph  Mezzofanti,  a  pleasant  man 
of  fifty,  with  a  benignant,  self-complacent  countenance,  who 
speaks  English  like  a  native,  and,  as  my  guide  says,  is  equally 
conversant  in  all  modern  tongues,  of  immense  learning,  and 
sought  after  for  his  conversation,  far  and  near.  No  titled  or 
royal  person  passes  through  Bologna  without  sending  for  him. 
He  showed  himself  a  most  intelligent  person,  and  surprised 
me  by  his  acquaintance  with  American  matters.  The  Indian 
languages  are  of  great  interest  with  him.  He  showed  me  the 
only  manuscript  of  any  value  in  the  library,  a  good  copy  of 
Lactantius,  of  the  fifth  century." 

ITALIAN  SUNSET. 
(Journal,  November  12.) 
"  Saw  Florence  in  the  distance  at  the  fifth  mile  stone.  As 
we  descended  thence  to  the  valley,  enjoyed  a  glorious  sunset ; 
— gorgeous  purple  clouds  in  the  west,  and  light  rich  pink  flying 
over  the  heavens; — the  mountain-sides  being  of  a  blue  purple, 
such  as  we  have  seen  in  pictures  and  never  credited." 

STATUARY  IN  FLORENCE. 
(Journal,  November  13.) 
"  My  first  two  visits  were  given  exclusively  to  the  statuary; 
and  my  chief  impression  was  that  of  wonder,  and  a  sense  of 
pleasure,  from  the  entire  ease  of  every  figure.  The  attitudes 
and  postures  are  so  natural  and  unconstrained,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  so  various  and  graceful,  that  your  eye  rests  on 
them  with  the  same  sort  of  feeling  as  when  you  look  on  chil- 
dren asleep ;  with  the  added  sense  of  astonishment  at  the  skill 
of  the  artist.  This  continued  to  be  the  prevailing  feeling  to 
the  last.  The  Venus  de'  ]\Iedici  is  placed  with  four  other 
prime  figures  in  a  small  octagonal  temple,  devoted  to  certain 


JR.  65 

chefs-d'opuvre,  and,  although  not  seen  with  so  great  delight  as 
you  expect  the  first  time,  grows  upon  you  at  every  visit,  and 
wins  your  whole  approbation,  and  all  your  heart,  at  last.  1 
am  sure  it  never  could  have  been  designed  for  Venus ;  it  is 
too  merely  sweet  and  modest,  and  wholly  free  from  all  air  of 
voluptuousness.  The  arms  and  hands  do  not  agree  with  the 
rest  of  the  figure,  and  yet  I  cannot,  for  the  life  of  me,  guess 
how  the  original  artist  disposed  of  them.  No  one  can  form 
any  notion  of  the  statue  from  casts.  Its  peculiar  beauty  seems 
incommunicable.  And  I  suppose  that  this  is  the  case  with  all 
the  finest  works  of  art." 

kaffaelle's  madonna. 
(Journal,  December.) 
"  There  we  saw  and  admired  Raflfaelle,  especially  his  fa- 
mous Virgin  and  Child,  {della  Seggiola,)  of  which  everybody 
knows  the  engraving ;  but  of  this  I  say,  as  of  the  Venus,  no 
copy  can  give  you  the  finish,  the  soul,  of  the  original.  Every- 
thing about  it  is  true,  suitable,  and  heavenly.  To  me  the 
greatest  charm  was  in  the  infant  Saviour,  the  expression  of 
whose  face,  especially  his  eye,  has  a  thoughtful  and  spirit- 
ual cast,  which  is  perfectly  fascinating,  and,  though  seeming 
almost  more  than  earthly,  is  so  singularly  fashioned  as  not 
to  appear  inconsistent  with  infancy.  I  have  seen  copies, 
called  equal  to  the  original,  which  do  not  approach  this  inde- 
scribable something,  which  is  the  charm  of  Raffaelle's  work." 

RELIGION    IN    FLORENCE. 

(Journal,  December.) 

"  Florence  has  the  reputation  of  being  the  most  devout  city 

in  Italy.     The  streets  are  full  of  priests  and  priestlings,  and 

monks  ;  the  bells  are  perpetually  ringing,  night  and  day,  and 

holy  processions  are  frequent.     I  saw  many,  in  which  the  host 

was  carried  to  the  sick ;  and  certainly  a  more  singular  mix- 

VOL.  II.  6^ 


66  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,  JR. 

ture  of  the  imposiij^  and  the  ridiculous  could  hardly  be 
desired.  Day  or  night,  there  is  a  large  number  of  persons  in 
white  frocks,  dirtied  and  rumpled,  bearing  large  wax-lights, 
and  lamps  in  glass  lanterns.  The  priest,  with  the  host,  walks 
under  an  umbrella,  and  over  that  is  a  spreading  canopy,  borne 
by  six  men  in  white.  In  some  instances  there  is  also  a  guard 
of  soldiers.  One  attendant  bears  a  little  bell,  which  he  rings 
constantly,  and,  at  the  sound,  all  passengers  uncover,  lights 
are  put  up  at  the  windows,  and  the  street  is  thus  illumin- 
ated as  they  pass.  A  crowd  follows  them  to  the  house,  where 
part  of  the  procession  remains  chanting  at  the  outer  door, 
waits  for  their  return,  and  accompanies  them  back  to  the 
church. 

"  I  once,  just  after  dark,  did  the  same.  I  found,  in  a  large 
church,  that  at  least  five  hundred  people  had  collected,  and 
were  on  their  knees  at  the  seats  and  in  the  alleys,  all  joining, 
in  a  loud  voice,  the  anthem  sung  by  the  priests,  as  they 
returned  with  the  host,  and  proceeded  to  the  altar.  There 
were  no  lights  except  those  at  the  altar  and  those  borne  by  the 
procession.  When  all  had  collected  at  the  altar,  the  effect 
was  magnificent.  The  blaze  of  light  in  one  spot  of  the 
church,  shining  on  the  glittering  ornaments  around,  and  the 
white  and  showy  dresses  of  the  priests  surrounding  the  allar, 
the  vast  building  with  its  arches  and  pillars,  and  recesses, 
dimly  shown  in  the  reflected  light,  or  shrouded  in  thick  dark- 
ness ;  the  throng  of  kneeling  figures,  from  whom  arose  a 
loud  chorus,  now  sinking  low,  and  now  swelling  to  a  tremen- 
dous shout,  interrupted  by  occasional  pauses,  in  which  there 
was  dead  silence  for  a  minute,  or  only  the  low  muttering  of 
one  priest  kneeling  on  the  steps, — all  together  formed  a  scene 
of  solemnity  and  grandeur,  well  calculated  to  impress  and 
affect  the  multitude,  and  whose  influence  I  could  not  help 
feeling.  It  continued,  perhaps,  ten  minutes  ;  then  the  priests 
and  attendants  abruptly  rushed  from  the  altar,  like  boys  broke 
loose  from  school,  and  with  hurried  steps  left  the  church.    The 


JR.  67 

lights  were  instantaneously  extinguished,  except  those  which 
are  always  kept  burning,  namely,  six  small  candles ;  and  two 
or  three  ragged  boys  sprung  to  the  altar  to  scrape  up  the  wax 
which  had  dropped  upon  the  steps.  About  half  the  people 
left  the  church,  and  the  remainder  continued  motionless  on 
their  knees,  as  if  absorbed  in  devotion. 

"  Adapted  as  all  this  is  to  produce  effect,  I  wonder  that  the 
charm  is  not  broken,  even  on  the  minds  of  the  most  ignorant. 
The  indecorum  and  indifference  of  the  priests  and  their  attend- 
ants, during  the  whole,  are  striking;  and  nearly  every  holy 
torch-bearer  is  anxiously  engaged,  as  he  walks,  in  contriving 
so  to  hold  his  huge  candle,  that  the  melting  wax  shall  fall 
upon  a  paper  held  to  receive  it  by  a  ragged  boy,  of  whom  a 
number  always  accompany  the  processions  to  collect  the  wax 
from  these  accommodating  devotees,  and  sell  it." 

"  Of  the  people  and  manners  of  Florence,  I 

of  course  can  say  nothing,  as  I  had  no  means  of  intercourse 
with  them.  I  am  passing  through  Italy,  as  some  men  are 
said  to  pass  through  College, '  without  touching.'  Ignorance 
of  the  language,  and  no  letters  of  introduction,  leave  me  to 
grope  my  way  along,  looking  at  the  outside  of  the  country  and 
the  cities,  but  really  coming  m  contact  with  nothing.  I  grieve 
at  this  sorely,  and  beg  that,  if  brother  or  son  of  mine  shall  ever 
visit  the  Continent,  he  may  previously  learn  fo  speak  readily 
the  language  of  the  natives.  It  will  not  be  difficult  then  to 
associate  with  any  persons  whom  they  may  desire  to  know." 

to  the  rev.  ralph  w.  emerson. 

"  Rome,  December  27,  1829. 
"  As  for  tidings  of  myself,  I  have  none.  I  am  well  enough 
to  enjoy  life  a  good  deal.  I  am  deep  in  Roman  antiquities, 
and  Italian  niceties.  But  I  strongly  apprehend,  that  the  actual 
visiting  of  these  celebrated  spots  tends  to  destroy  the  romance 
and  break  the  charm,  which  our  younger  days  have  attached 


68 


to  them.  It  is  a  sad  thing  to  be  in  old  Rome,  and  yet  find 
that  rooms,  tables,  candles,  and  victuals  are  just  what  they  are 
everywhere  else ;  and  that,  in  fact,  day  passes  after  day  as  it 
does  elsewhere.  Once  in  a  while  you  touch  a  spot,  or  see  a 
relic,  which  makes  your  heart  jump ;  but,  in  general,  you  do 
not  '  realize  '  that  you  are  here.  It  requires  the  same  study  to 
persuade  yourself  that  this  is  in  truth  the  very  place  you  have 
read  of  in  history,  that  it  does  to  persuade  yourself  that  St. 
Peter's  is  any  larger  than  the  Boston  State-House  ; — your  eyes 
testify  to  neither  fact.  Yet  it  is  a  high  enjoyment  to  stroll 
about  here ;  and  the  knowledge  of  localities,  thus  picked  up, 
will  be  very  valuable  in  future  reading. 

"  As  for  the  modern  paganism  of  the  city,  I  think  worse  of 
it  than  ever,  and  fear  that  my  tolerance  of  Catholicity  will  be 
wholly  gone  before  I  return  home,  it  makes  me  sick  to  see 
the  splendid  temple  of  St.  Peter  employed  for  no  worship, 
(comparatively)  except  the  adoration  which  is  paid  to  an  ugly 
black  statue  of  the  Apostle,  which  is  devoutly  kissed  and  ca- 
ressed by  all  the  faithful  who  enter  the  aisle.  The  illumina- 
tions and  other  theatricals  of  this  week,  I  have  only  partially 
seen  ;  but  Mrs.  Ware  beheld  the  wax  exhibition  of  the  manger 
and  the  nativity,  and  the  remnants  of  the  real  cradle  enshrined 
in  solid  gold.  We  had  appointed  an  hour  to-day  for  going  to 
see  the  heads  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  which  are  up  for  ex- 
hibition at  the  Lateran  Church,  (it  is  thought  sufficient  for  St. 
Peter's  Church  to  possess  their  bodies,  and  the  Lateran  shares 
a  divided  honor  by  keeping  their  heads,)  but  accident  pre- 
vented. I  cannot  say  that  I  much  regret  it.  I  have  seen  one 
dead  saint  laid  out  in  gold  and  precious  stones, — I  have  looked 
at  a  variety  of  relics,  real  and  spurious,— I  care  little  to  wit- 
ness any  more  such  mockery; — it  is  half  barbarian,  and  half 
impious.  We  have  worship  near  us  in  an  English  chapel ; 
and  while  cut  off  from  what  we  should  prefer,  we  are  able  to 
enjoy  highly  the  unexceptionable  portions  of  that  magnificent 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  69 

liturgy.     But  we  look  with  longing  souls  for  the  return  of  our 
own  simple  forms  and  hearty  worship." 

to  his  brother  john. 

"  Rome,  February,  1830. 
"•  You  say  that  I  am  not  particular  enough  about  my  health. 
I  do  not  want  to  be  always  mentioning  it;  for  there  is  nothing 
particular  to  be  said,  unless  I  should  detail  all  the  fluctuations 
and  changes.  These  are  perpetual ; — now  better,  now  worse  ; 
now,  for  days,  perfectly  well  and  strong,  and  then  filled  for 
days  with  lassitude  and  depression.  At  Naples,  for  two  or 
three  weeks,  I  was  miserable ;  then  I  brightened,  and  came 
from  there  here  principally  on  horseback.  Here  again,  I  am 
not  quite  so  well.  But  the  sum  is,  that  I  have  a  better  winter 
than  the  last,  but  do  ncft  think  I  have  gained  anything  since 
October,  and  am  almost  frightened  at  the  idea  of  being  at 
home  and  going  to  work  again  in  five  months.  You  expect 
to  see  me,  you  say,  in  June.  It  is  impossible  for  us  at  pres- 
ent to  form  any  definite  plan,  and  we  wish  you  would  have 
no  definite  expectations.  I  have  several  things  to  see  and 
arrange  in  England,  after  seeing  Paris ;  and  I  do  want  the 
utmost  length  of  absence  which  can  be  afTorded  me.  The 
utmost  with  which  I  flatter  myself,  is  to  be  in  season  for  the 
fall  term  at  Cambridge ;  and  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  unable  to  enter 
on  it  with  some  vigor.  But  really  it  will  demand  so  much, 
and  a  sickly  man,  without  energy,  and  obliged  to  be  continually 
leaving  his  work  half  done,  is  such  a  burden  to  himself, 
though  his  kind  friends  forgive  it,  that  if  I  make  no  more 
headway  than  1  have  done,  I  shall  almost  feel  ready  to  aban- 
don the  cause.  However,  I  do  not  despair ;  the  winter  is  now 
apparentl}^  over ;  a  glorious  spring  is  brightening  and  bloom- 
ing all  around  us,  and  five  months  of  more  favorable  weather 
may  do  me  a  good  which  has  not  yet  been  done.  Especially 
do  I  hope  something  from  pursuing  the  plan  I  commenced  at 
Naples,  of  riding  one  of  the  carriage  horses  as  much  as  pos- 


70  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    Jil. 

sible.  Your  letter  was  brim-full  in  the  best  way,  and,  together 
with  Brother  Palfrey's  budget,  (just  such  an  one  as  I  love,  tell 
him,)  has  made  me  quite  master  of  the  state  of  things  at  home. 
I  only  want  to  see  '  The  Examiner,'— why  will  you  not  send 
me  the  latest  numbers  by  the  packet  of  the  1st  of  April,  to 
meet  me  in  Paris  ? 

"  We  had  a  charming  visit  at  Naples,  in  spite  of  the  bad 
weather,— very  quiet  and  pleasant.  Eight  or  ten  good  days, 
some  of  them  too  lovely  by  half,  were  sufficient  to  show  us  the 
beauties  and  wonders  of  the  vicinity,— Baiae,  Cumas,  Pompeii, 
and  Psestum ;  —  and  the  city  itself  has  nothing  to  be  seen  but  the 
Museum,  which  could  be  visited  in  any  weather.  It  is  a  mis- 
erably insignificant  place,  of  narrow,  dirty  streets,  mostly 
meanly  built,  and  thronged  with  a  filthy,  noisy  population, 
whose  clamor  and  rags  beggar  all  description.  But  our  lodg- 
ings were  wdthin  forty  feet  of  the  very  water  of  that  beautiful 
bay, — and  in  all  weather,  good  and  bad,  it  was  luxury  itself  to 
look  out  upon  it.  There  was  no  exhausting  its  beauties,  and 
there  is  no  describing  them.  Come  and  see  for  yourself,  or 
you  never  will  believe  that  we  could  be  induced  to  prolong 
our  stay  from  three  weeks  to  six,  in  the  midst  of  rain,  wind, 
and  hail,  day  and  night,  almost  exclusively  by  the  singular 
pleasure  of  living  in  a  room  which  overlooks  the  Bay  of 
Naples.  Then  the  vicinity  is  full  of  romantic  and  classic 
interest,  and  the  day's  excursion  to  Baias  was  alone  worth  the 
voyage. 

"  I  wish  I  had  power  and  time  to  make  visible  to  you  the 
scenes  of  Naples,  and  the  Italian  mode  of  travelling.  Suppose 
you  should  engage  in  Boston  a  coach  with  two  horses,  and  a 
saddle-horse  to  accompany,  to  take  you  and  your  wife  to  North- 
ampton, and  the  man  should  drive  up  to  your  door  the  largest 
stage-coach  in  the  town  with  four  horses, — a  big,  lumbering 
thing  for  ten  passengers,  and  after  all  you  should  be  obliged  to 
take  it,  and  be  joggled  and  jolted  in  it  all  the  way  ?  the  sad- 
dle-horse being  one  of  those  four  bony,  uncurried  beasts,  taken 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  71 

from  the  traces  when  you  wish  to  ride,  and  you  astride  of  him 
with  his  bridle  unchanged,  and  a  string  of  bells  about  his 
neck  ?  In  just  this  style  did  wife  and  I  travel  our  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  from  Naples  to  Rome,  and  it  is  a  perfectly 
fair  specimen  of  the  dealing  and  the  manners  of  the  land.    Mr. 

and  Mrs.  R and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  G accompanied  us  on 

the  road  ;  and  we  enjoyed  the  weather  and  the  scenery  highly, 
notwithstanding  our  fantastic  equipage.  But  the  only  possible 
comfort  in  the  carriage  was  found  in  lying  down  on  the 
seats." 

to  the  same. 

"Rome,  March  11,  1830. 

"  Last  night  we  visited  the  Coliseum  by  moonlight,  and  all 
the  extravagant  speeches,  which  have  been  made  about  the 
effect,  are  not  a  whit  beyond  the  truth.  The  evening  was  fine 
as  possible,  and  we  wandered  about  amongst  the  arches,  study- 
ing the  picturesque  appearances  of  light  and  shade  in  every 
possible  position.  While  we  stood  on  the  top  and  looked 
around,  a  small  company  of  gentlemen  appeared  in  another 
part  of  the  ruin,  and  made  it  echo  with  solemn  songs  well 
sung,  then  with  a  trumpet-like  instrument.  Meanwhile,  in 
the  dark  arches  was  wandering  a  cowled  monk,  bearing  a  can- 
dle, which  had  a  striking  effect  as  it  appeared  and  disappeared 
in  the  distance  ;  then  presently  an  owl  hooted  from  the  top ; 
then  a  fife  played  sweetly  from  Ca3sar's  House,  on  the  Pala- 
tine ;  and  presently  many  of  the  bells  of  the  city  rung  from  a 
distance,  making  a  beautiful  addition  to  the  circumstances  of 
the  scene. 

"  After  this  we  walked  slowly  through  the  Forum,  which 
looks  solemn  and  grand  by  moonlight,  with  its  heaps  of  col- 
umns and  arches,  far  beyond  what  it  does  by  day.  Constant 
excavations  are  going  on  there,  and  in  many  spots  the  old 
pavement  is  left  bare,  and  you  may  walk  upon  it  in  the  very 
steps  of  Cicero  and  Trajan,     For  a  considerable  distance  by 


72  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

the  Forum  the  street  has  been  restored  to  its  former  level. 
The  earth  had  accumulated  from  twelve  to  thirty  feet;  the 
pillars  and  triumphal  arches  were  sunk  that  depth  in  the 
ground,  which  ground  is  but  a  mass  of  ruins,  in  digging 
through  which  they  are  constantly  turning  up  shafts  of  columns 
and  other  antiquarian  remains.  Indeed,  this  is  true  of  all  Rome, 
the  soil  is  many  feet  above  the  ancient  level,  and  full  of  pre- 
cious ruins  ;  so  is  the  Tiber." 

TO    HIS    BROTHER   WILLIAM. 

"Rome,  March  12,  1S30. 

"  You  want  to  know  about  Raffaelle's  Chambers,  &c.  In 
the  first  place  you  know  they  are  in  the  Vatican,  a  huge  palace, 
'  a  mighty  maze,  and  built  without  a  plan,'  piled  together  any- 
how, around  twenty-six  courts,  eleven  thousand  five  hundred 
and  twenty-seven  rooms  of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  and,  together 
with  St.  Peter's,  which  adjoins  it,  covering,  within  a  trifle, 
precisely  the  same  ground  which  is  covered  by  Turin,  a  city 
of  one  hundred  thousand  inhabitants.  The  galleries  trodden 
by  strangers,  are  said  to  measure,  in  all,  two  miles  of  extent. 

"  Raffaelle's  Chambers  are  four  rooms,  up  three  pair  of 
stairs,  painted  in  part  by  his  scholars  ;  they  have  no  furniture, 
and  are  used  solely  by  artists  to  copy,  and  by  foreigners  to 
gaze  upon ;  the  Romans  rarely  look  upon  them  or  any  other 
curiosity.  The  paintings  cover  every  inch  of  the  walls,  and 
consequently  bewilder  you.  They  are  much  injured  by  time, 
and  it  takes  many  visits  to  look  them  wholly  into  shape,  and 
understand  and  feel  their  excellence.  Each  is  a  long  study, 
and  you  have  to  pursue  it  standing  in  most  uneasy  positions  ; 
the  best,  you  must  contrive  to  peep  at  through  the  stagings  and 
scaffoldings  of  the  army  of  painters  who  are  copying.  It  is 
very  difficult,  under  all  these  disadvantages,  either  to  judge 
fairly,  or  to  get  up  any  enthusiasm,  especially  as  you  have  fur- 
ther to  contend  with  the  ridiculous  and  shameful  violations  of 
chronology  and  costume,  and  the  outrage  of  all  decent  taste, 


I 


JR.  73 

which  fill  the  Catholic  paintings,  and  from  which  even  Raf- 
faelle  is  not  exempt.  For  example,  he  paints  the  Almighty  at 
full  length,  creating  the  world;  he  hrings  in  Stephen  and 
another  martyr,  to  the  scene  of  the  Transfiguration,  and  a  pope 
is  ushered  in,  in  state,  to  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem,  to  witness 
the  punishment  of  Heliodorus.  It  is  difficult  to  delight  in  pic- 
tures which  set  truth  at  defiance  thus,  and  there  is  hardly  a 
first-rate  picture  of  holy  subjects  in  Italy,  which  does  not  in  this 
way  bear  a  lie  on  its  very  front.  Still,  the  genius  of  RafTaelle 
conquers ;  and  it  is  a  comfort  to  know,  that  he  put  these 
shameful  blots  on  his  works,  not  from  choice,  but  by  com- 
mand. 

"  Of  the  particular  pictures,  you  certainly  will  not  expect 
me  to  give  you  an  account.  You  already  know  more  about 
them  than  I  can  tell  you.  Some  please  me  little,  others  much. 
Many  of  the  subjects  are  of  a  kind  not  to  suit  my  taste,  but  no 
one  is  without  some  one  object,  at  least,  to  strike  and  fix  the 
eye.  It  is  amazing,  in  the  almost  countless  multitude  of  fig- 
ures, how  he  could  imagine  such  a  variety  of  exceedingly  dif- 
ficult, and  at  the  same  time  exceedingly  fine  heads ;  the  same 
of  the  attitudes.  He  seems  never  to  repeat  himself.  He 
is  wonderful  in  his  children.  I  suppose  I  have  seen  hun- 
dreds of  his  children,  all  graceful,  natural,  beautiful,  and 
yet  scarcely  even  a  family  likeness  between  them.  He 
charms  me  in  nothing  so  much.  His  portraits  are  some- 
times wonderful ;  nobody  but  Titian  does  so  well,  and  he 
sometimes  better,  that  is,  if  better  be  possible.  I  think  no  one 
can  dispute  the  general  opinion,  that  RafTaelle's  Transfigura- 
tion is  his  greatest  work.  I  look  at  it  in  amazement ;  it  wants 
nothing  but  to  be  cut  in  two,  and  the  lower  part  preserved, 
while  the  upper  is  burned.  The  latter  is  stiff,  forced,  unmean- 
ing and  false  ;  the  former,  living,  active,  nature  and  truth  itself. 
How  could  the  same  hand  do  so  stupid  a  thing  as  the  first,  and 
so  transcendently  perfect  a  thing  as  the  last !  I  can  only 
account  for  it  by  the  fact,  that  genius  dictated  the  one,  and  the 

VOL.  II.  7 


74  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

Pope  the  other.  At  the  bottom  of  the  right  handxorner  is  a 
little  pool  of  water,  which  you  may  not  have  observed  in  the 
engravings,  but  which  is  alone,  in  the  original,  worth  a  day's 
journey  to  see.  You  see  I  have  become  a  convert  to  Raf- 
faelle's  fame ;  it  took  time  and  familiarity  to  perceive  his  emi- 
nence ;  the  first  things  I  saw  did  not  satisfy  me,  and  still  you 
will  believe  he  really  left  behind  him  some  poor  work. 

"  You  ask  me  about  Correggio.  Very  rare  are  his  works. 
We  have  seen  but  few.  But  those  few  are  certainly  une- 
qualled in  a  grace  and  loveliness  peculiar  to  themselves.  Del- 
icate beauty  is  their  characteristic,  it  seems  to  me.  I  have 
this  very  day  seen  the  only  one  of  the  size  of  life,  which  we 
have  met  with,  in  the  Borghese  palace,  Danae  and  Cupid, 
with  two  little  Cupids  in  the  corner  sharpening  their  arrows. 
Nothing  can  be  imagined  more  exquisitely  beautiful,  especially 
the  figure  and  head  of  Cupid,  and  the  two  cunning  loves  in  the 
corner.  You  will,  one  of  these  days,  see  a  very  exact  copy 
of  this  Cupid,  which  Peale  has  been  making. 

"  Of  Rubens  we  have  seen  something,  and  invariably  laugh 
at  him.  He  colors  the  flesh  in  blotches  of  red  and  white,  so 
that  his  figures  look  as  if  they  were  flea-bitten.  He  draws 
abominably.  In  every  picture  you  see  something  wrong  or 
distorted,  and  long  to  put  a  finger  or  a  leg  into  some  possible 
position.  His  women  are  all  fat,  very  fat,  and  their  clothes 
hang  about  them  in  the  most  dowdy  way  imaginable.  Yet  no 
doubt  his  coloring  is  rich,  and  he  produces  splendid  effects  by 
the  disposition  and  glow  of  his  drapery.  They  say,  too,  thai 
Italy  possesses  none  of  his  best  works.     I  wish  it  did. 

"  I  sometimes  fancy,  that  I  like  statuary  better  than  paint- 
ings ;  but  this  does  not  always  last.  It  has  a  distinct  and 
peculiar  charm,  and  never  gives  me  the  dissatisfaction,  which 
I  often  feel  at  pictures,  on  account  of  the  multitude  of  crowded 
figures  thrown  into  them.  I  dwell  with  more  complete  delight 
on  a  piece,  canvass  or  marble,  of  one  or  two  finished  figures, 
than  on  any  more  numerous  company.     It  is  more  simple  and 


JR.  75 

less  bewildering.  I  fancy  that  painting  can  be  more  success- 
fully copied  than  sculpture  ;  though  I  am  sure  that  some  chefs- 
d'oeuvre,  even  of  the  pencil,  are  wholly  uncopiable.  I  will  not 
give  you  a  dissertation  on  statues  here,  though  I  could  do  so 
if  I  had  room ;  but,  respecti'ng  the  moderns,  I  beheve  no  one 
comes  to  Rome  without  discovering  that  Thorwaldsen  is  a  man 
far  superior  to  Canova;— more  strength,  nature,  and  truth, 
with  occasionally,  and  whenever  the  subject  demands,  quite  as 
much  beauty  and  grace,  and  never  so  much  of  an  artificial  air. 
Canova  studied  grace  and  beauty  only ;  studied  for  them  even 
when  they  were  out  of  place,  and  has  given  his  figures,  too 
often,  the  appearance  of  having  been  taken  from  posture- 
masters  and  stage-dancers,  who  were  trying  to  be  pretty  and 
graceful.  They  seem  to  be  conscious  of  being  looked  at,  and 
to  be  saying  to  themselves,  '  I  wonder  what  they  think  of  me  ? ' 
Thorwaldsen  has  nothing  of  ail  this, — is  far  above  it ;  his 
works  are  simple,  easy,  natural.  He  is  just  completing  the 
Saviour  and  Twelve  Apostles,  for  a  church  in  Denmark;  (I 
wish  you  could  see  them ;  they  would  astonish  you  ;)  also,  for 
the  same,  John  the  Baptist,  preaching ;  his  attitude  and  look, 
and  those  of  his  hearers,  are  perfect.  He  has  just  finished  a 
statue  of  a  Polish  officer,  which  cannot  be  outdone  in  elegance 
and  manliness.  Why  cannot  we  have  something  of  such  a 
man  in  America  ?  Why  do  we  give  twenty  thousand  dollars 
to  a  second-rate  artist  for  two  tame  things  (one  of  which  I 
have  seen)  to  adorn  or  disfigure  our  Capitol,  when,  for  the 
same  sum,  or  less,  this  great  genius  would  have  been  proud  to 
send  us  two  of  his  imm^ortal  works  ? 

"  It  amazes  me  to  find  so  little  of  Michael  Angelo's  works. 
Some  buildings  we  have  seen,  and  half  a  dozen  pictures  and 
statues,  that  is  all.  What  did  he  do  in  his  eighty  years,  that 
Eaffaelle  in  his  thirt^^-six  should  have  left  us  one  hundred  for 
his  one  ?  His  famous  '  Day  of  Judgment'  I  have  not  seen ; 
indeed,  from  the  badness  of  its  position  and  the  holy  smoke  of 
^ years,  it  has  become  almost  invisible." 


76 


TO    HIS    BROTHER    JOHN. 
[Written  on  the  occasion  of  the  birth  of  a  daughter  in  Rome,  on  the  23d  of  March,  1S30.] 

"  We  are   in   possession   of  every  comfort 

which  we  could  have  at  home,  and  want  nothing  ; — convenient, 
comfortahle  rooms,  four  in  number ;— many  friends,  American, 
EngHsh,  and  Italian, — a  very  good  English  nurse,  speaking 
French  and  Italian,  as  we  need;  — and,  if  our  Boston  friends 
could  look  upon  us,  they  would  say,  that  we  should  not  be 
better  off  at  home.  So  look  upon  us  as  perfectly  happy, 
and  as  pretty  a  little  quiet  domestic  circle  as  ever  Kome  has 
seen  since  the  days  of  the  twin  founders.  After  which  of  the 
long  list  of  her  worthy  women  we  shall  call  the  infant  lady,  it 
is  hard  to  decide.  If  there  had  been  two  boys,  the  designation 
would  have  been  obvious,  and  Romulus  and  Remus  should 
again  have  risen  to  fame.  As  it  is,  there  is  great  room  for 
hesitation  between  Egeria,  the  first  female  name,  I  believe, 
on  the  archives  of  the  Eternal  City,  and  Lucretia  and  Virgi- 
nia, the  heroic  virgins,  and  Cornelia,  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi, 
and  Agrippina,  and  Julia,  &c.,  &c. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  about  things  here  ; 

neither  description,  history,  nor  dissertation ;  or,  if  I  had,  I 
have  no  heart  to  say  it.  I  am  full  of  self-dissatisfaction.  I  am 
weary  of  this  miserably  idle  life,  and  yet  I  am  fit  for  no  other. 
I  am  afraid  to  go  home,  because  I  know  I  shall  only  be  able 
to  do  half  the  requisite  work,  and  to  do  that  not  more  than 
half, — yet  to  stay  away  is  altogether  out  of  the  question ;  and 
so  I  have  before  me  the  dismal  prospect  of  going  back  to  a 
languid,  inefficient,  discontented  existence.  If  I  were  free 
from  engagement  and  obligation,  if  I  were  at  my  own  disposal, 
I  should  not  think  of  going  home  this  season  ;  and  Mary  rather 
insists,  that,  as  it  is,  I  had  better  resolve  to  stay  away,  as,  she 
says,  full  strength  and  longer  life  are  worth  more  to  her  and 
to  the  public,  than  this  year  of  duty.  But,  having  flung  away 
two  years  on  the  vain  pursuit  of  this  perfect  strength,  and 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE,    JR.  77 

wasted  the  charit}^  of  friends,  I  have  neither  courage  nor 
conscience  to  do  more ;  my  lot  seems  cast,  and  I  will  abide  by 
it.  We  have  talked  over  this  matter  together,  and  the  only 
relief,  which  Mary  is  able  to  suggest,  is,  that  I  should  state  my 
case  exactly,  resign  the  professorship,  so  as  not  to  be  a  burden 
or  hindrance  to  those  for  whom  I  care  more  than  for  myself, 
send  her  home  from  Havre,  and  spend  a  year  in  travelling 
Europe  on  foot  and  on  horseback.  This  might  be  done  at  a 
very  small  expense,  an  expense  which  we  could  meet  without 
taxing  College  or  friends.  She  would  go  to  some  quiet  retire- 
ment and  take  care  of  the  children ;  and  I,  as  the  past  year 
proves,  could  do  perfectly  well  alone,  and  do  not  require  a 
nurse. 

"So  much  for  what  we  have  thrown  out  in  our  talks.  You 
may  ask,  '  ^^^lat  is  the  matter,  and  what  leads  to  this  ? '  In 
reply ;— I  am  doubtless  better  than  when  1  left  home,  and  at 
times  have  thought  myself  greatly  gaining,  but  have  frequent 
pull-backs,  and  since  January  have  had  an  almost  perpetual 
lassitude  upon  me,  (with  occasional  turns  of  vigor,)  which  has 
resulted  in  loss  of  strength,  so  that  instead  of  walking  for 
exercise  as  I  did,  I  have  been  driven,  from  weakness,  to  take 
to  the  saddle ;  and  am  obliged  occasionally  during  the  day  to 
lie  down,  which  has  not  been  the  case  before.  I  tell  you  here 
the  worst  of  it ;  and  you  may  easily  conceive  that  this  dis- 
heartens me  a  little,  at  the  time  when  I  am  thinking  of 
a  return  and  beginning  to  prepare  for  it.  Yet,  at  the  same 
time,  I  am  not  low-spirited,  nor  nervous,  as  I  was  at  Brookline  ; 
and,  when  in  company,  I  am  apt  to  get  excited  to  a  very  un- 
usual degree, — as  I  never  used  to  be, — which  I  look  upon  as 
part  of  my  disease,  and  which  observers  account  to  be  vigor- 
ous health ;  so  that,  if  you  inquire  of  any  who  have  seen  me 
here,  they  would  probably  say,  they  never  saw  me  so  well  in 
their  lives.  But  enough  for  the  present ; — you  know,  a  man 
likes  to  talk  about  himself,  and,  besides,  you  ought  to  know 
all  that  passes  with  us  both  in  body  and  mind.     I  do  not  vdsh. 

VOL.  n.  7* 


78  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

you  to  do  anything  in  the  premises,  nor  say  anything,  except 
so  far  as  may  be  necessary  to  prevent  disappointment  among 
our  friends,  and  the  friends  of  the  College,  at  my  returning  a 
weak  man.  I  shall  be  nothing  else,  and  should  be  sorry  to 
have  them  expect  anything  else.  And  yet,  it  is  so  difficult  to 
say  anything  which  shall  not  be  stretched  into  the  most 
exaggerated  misrepresentation,  that  perhaps  it  is  best  to  -hold 
your  tongue." 

TO    THE    SAME. 

"Rome,  April  17,  1S30. 
"  You  must  not  expect  from  me  an  account  of  the  ceremonies 
of  Holy  Week,  which  everybody  crowds  to  see,  and  repents  of 
having  seen.  I  was  wise  enough  to  avoid  everything  but  a 
few  of  the  chief  exhibitions,  leaving  it  to  others  to  lose  sleep, 
and  meals,  and  temper,  in  rushing  from  church  to  church,  and 
from  procession  to  procession,  for  three  days  and  nights.  I 
should  have  gone  to  see  the  procession  and  the  pompous  mass 
at  St.  Peter's,  where  it  not  that  the  present  Pope  is  '  lame  of 
one  leg,'  or  of  two,  and  cannot  stand,  and  therefore  makes  no 
public  show, — a  lucky  man.  I  heard  the  three  Misereres  on 
Wednesday,  Thursday  and  Friday,  and  can  only  say,  that, 
after  all  which  has  been  said  of  them,  I  was  not  disappointed. 
The  music  differs  from  all  other  that  I  ever  heard,  having  no 
marked  time  or  rhythm,  but  being  a  succession  of  swelling  and 
dying  harmonies,  more  like  the  ^olian  harp  than  anything 
else  I  can  compare  it  to,  and  sung  by  voices  which  resemble 
no  human  sounds, — something  partaking  of  the  voice  and  of  a 
wind  instrument,  but  finer  than  either.  But  we  were  so 
jammed  together  in  a  Calcutta  hole,  in  the  dark,  hot  chapel, 
and  compelled  to  wait  two  and  a  half  previous  hours,  amid 
<uch  a  villanous  chorus  of  chanting  priests  and  talking  and 
perfumed  Englishmen  and  Germans,  that  we  were  in  a  very 
unprepared  state  to  feel,  though  we  were  delighted  to  hear  it. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  79 

Then,  on  Wednesday  and  Sunday,  the  Pope  was  brought  out 
in  his  high  dress  to  the  balcony  of  St.  Peter's,  to  bless  the 
kneeling  people.  Except  at  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of 
Bunker-Hill  Monument,  I  have  never  seen  such  a  crowd. 

"  On  Sunday  evening,  the  church  was  illuminated  with  its 
forty  thousand  lamps  and  torches  ;  such  a  beautiful,  magic, 
brilliant,  bewitching  sight,  cannot  be  imagined.  On  Monday 
evening,  the  religious  services  of  the  occasion  were  concluded 
with  a  show  of  fire-works  from  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo. 
Description  would  be  poor  to  tell  you  the  splendor  and  sublim- 
ity of  the  scene.  Thus  ended  the  holy  work  of  these  solemn 
days ;  and  you  may  guess  how  far  they  are  calculated  for  reli- 
gious edification,  and  to  do  honor,  in  men's  minds,  to  the  name 
of  the  holy  and  simple  person  whose  death  and  resurrection 
they  contrive  to  commemorate  with  all  this  mockery  of  noise 
and  tumult  and  theatrical  parade.  Many  things  which  I  did 
not  see  were  perfectly  profane ;  it  is  a  great  merit  of  what  I 
did  see,  that  it  was  simply  worldly. 

"  No  sooner  had  the  last  rocket  spent  itself,  than  Rome 
began  to  empty  itself.  Carriages  were  standing  ready,  and 
many  went  oflf  immediately.     The  city  looks  thin." 

SINGING  THE  MISERERE. 
(Journal,  Rome,  April  10.) 
"  Wednesday,  Thursday  and  Friday,  I  attended  at  the 
Sistine  Chapel  in  the  afternoon,  standing  in  the  dense  and 
suffocating  crowd  two  hours  and  a  half,  hstening  to  the  reci- 
tations of  the  priests,  for  the  sake  of  hearing  the  Miserere  at 
the  close.  Of  course  I  was  too  tired,  when  it  came,  to  enjoy 
it  fully  ;  but  I  cannot  say  that  I  felt  any  disappointment, 
especially  in  Allegri's  on  Wednesday.  The  music  is  most 
peculiar,  not  arranged  in  any  perceptible  rhythm  or  accent,  so 
as  to  form  what  we  call  a  tune  ;  but  a  succession  of  modu- 
lated harmonies  and  cadences,  swelling  and  dying,  changing 


80  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

and  intertwining",  more  like  the  singular  and  beautiful  music 
of  the  jEolian  harp  than  anything  else  to  which  it  can  be 
compared.  The  voices  were  of  wonderful  tone  and  power, 
not  like  human  voices,  but  more  liquid,  clear,  and  piercing. 
No  accompaniment  of  instruments,  and  the  whole  was  appar- 
ently warbled  out  without  articulate  words.  Each  Miserere 
was  of  kindred  features,  twenty  minutes  long ;  and  a  short 
piece  at  the  commencement  of  the  service,  called  Tenehrce, 
was  in  the  same  style,  and  nearly  as  fine.  The  service  closed 
with  a  few  words,  uttered  by  somebody  whom  I  could  not  see, 
and  a  loud  noise  to  mimic  thunder,  or,  as  some  say,  the  rend- 
ing of  the  veil  of  the  Temple.  Fifteen  candles,  to  typify  the 
disciples  and  the  three  Marys,  are  burning  at  first,  which  are 
extinguished  one  by  one,  to  show  their  desertion  of  the  Saviour, 
till  only  the  Virgin  is  left,  and  she  is  carried  and  placed  under 
the  altar.  Then  the  other  twelve  candles  on  the  altar  and  the 
railing  are  put  out,  and  the  Miserere  is  sung  in  the  dark. 
Formerly  it  was  forbidden  to  make  known  the  notes  of  this 
music ;  but,  Mozart  and  others  having  taken  it  from  the  ear, 
copies  got  abroad,  and  no  secret  is  made  of  it  now.  But  it 
can  be  sung  with  effect  only  by  those  who  have  learned  the 
traditional  method  at  the  Vatican.  The  bare  notes  are  inad- 
equate guides,  and  both  in  Germany  and  England  the  first 
performers  have  tried  it  in  vain." 

TO   ins   BROTHER   WILLIAM. 

"  Spezzia,  May  6,  1S30. 
"  To  begin  at  the  end,  I  saw  Greenough  two  days  ago  in 
Florence.  He  had  made  quite  a  satisfactory  model  of  Dr. 
Kirkland,  which  unluckily  met  with  an  accident,  and  he  must 
do  it  again.  He  has  other  works  enough  on  hand,  and  is 
doing  them  beautifully,  and  has  such  fine  and  high  notions 
that  I  am  sure  he  will  be  a  great  artist.  His  two  Cherubs 
will  be  exhibited  in  America  and  will  delight  you.     He  has 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  81 

just  taken  a  likeness  of  Mr.  G 's  niece,  five  years  old,  and 

everybody  says  it  is  perfect. 

"  But  the  glory  of  all  statuary,  modern  and  ancient,  is 
found  in  the  works  of  Thorwaldsen.  I  saw  nothing  in  Rome 
so  much,  and,  the  more  I  saw,  the  more  I  admired.  To  some 
of  his  works  no  approach  has  been  made  by  other  artists  ;  and 
no  impartial  person  sees  them  without  joining  decidedly  in  the 
unanimous  voice  of  the  artists,  which  places  Thorwaldsen  far 
above  even  Canova,  and  without  feeling  indignant  that  fashion 
and  circumstances  should  have  given  the  latter  a  false  preem- 
inence. The  truth  is,  Canova  was  an  elegant  and  accom- 
plished man,  personally  known  and  beloved  by  the  principal 
literati  of  Europe,  who  looked  at  his  works  and  spoke  of  them 
with  the  enthusiastic  partiality  of  personal  friendship  ;  and, 
having  the  voice  of  the  press  in  their  power,  they,  from  Mad. 
de  Stael  to  Lord  Byron,  could  make  it  speak  their  feelings, 
and  give  to  the  whole  reading  world  their  own  bias.  Thus 
he  became  the  fashion,  while  poor  Thorwaldsen,  with  all  his 
excellence  and  worth,  has  no  accomplishments  or  acquaintance, 
comparatively  speaking, — '  has  forgotten  his  own  language, 
and  never  learnt  any  other,'  as  Greenough  has  it, — and  has 
been  obliged  to  rely  singly  on  his  silent  merit.  Besides  he 
came  seldom  into  direct  observation,  because  his  great  works 
have  been  done  for  Denmark,  whose  king  has  the  high  honor 
of  having  so  patronized  Thorwaldsen,  as  to  have  called  into 
being  the  two  grandest  things  ever  done  in  marble. 

"  But  the  artists  have  always  done  the  man  justice  ;  and 
they  even  revenge  themselves  on  the  injustice  of  public  opin- 
ion, by  affecting  to  speak  slightingly  of  Canova,  of  which 
there  certainly  is  no  need.  Canova  was  exquisite  in  a  certain 
line  of  beauty,  but  he  could  not  go  out  of  it.  He  had  no 
variety,  he  repeated  himself  forever,  and  has  done  nothing 
more  than  make  a  great  family  of  brothers  and  sisters,  with  a 
striking  family  likeness,  who  had  all  been  brought  up  by  danc- 
ing-masters and  posture-masters,  and  could  not  sit,  stand,  or 


82 


JR. 


look,  except  by  rule.  In  one  word,  he  was  artificial.  Thor- 
waldsen  is  natural.  He  copies,  not  from  certain  conventional 
rules  of  beauty  and  taste,  which  he  has  in  his  mind,  but  from 
the  A'arious  models  of  nature.  Consequently  he  does  not 
repeat  himself,  and  presents  a  variety  of  forms,  and  expres- 
sions, and  attitudes,  that  astonish  you  almost  as  much  as  those 
of  Eafiaelle.  Like  his  figures,  too,  they  are  easy  and  free, 
Avithout  constraint  or  artifice.  It  is  one  of  Raffaelle's  distinc- 
tions, that  you  never  see  anything  like  stage  effect ;  no  atti- 
tudinizing, no  strutting,  no  showing  off  of  hands  and  limbs. 
A  stranger  may  go  into  his  Chambers  and  decide  at  once 
which  of  them  he  did  not  draw,  by  this  criticism ;  the  other 
pictures  are  not  representations  of  the  real  persons  and  scene, 
but  of  the  persons  and  scene  as  represented  on  the  stage, — not 
Constantino,  &;c.,  but  certain  pompous  actors  playing  the  part 
of  Constantino.  Now  Thorwaldsen  has  fully  this  eminent 
excellence  of  Raffaelle  ;  and  it  is  one  no  small  proof  of  his 
greatness. 

"  To  illustrate  all  this,  and  more,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  de- 
scribe to  you  his  two  great  groups,  but  I  cannot  do  it.  Both 
were  done  for  a  church  in  Copenhagen,  by  order  of  the  king 
of  Denmark  ;  the  one  in  marble,  colossal  statues  of  Christ 
and  the  Apostles ;  the  other  in  bronze,  John  the  Baptist  and 
fifteen  or  seventeen  figures  listening.  The  figure  of  our 
Saviour  is  one  of  the  very  few  attempts  to  represent  that  holy 
person,  at  which  you  can  look  with  pleasure.  It  is  noble  and 
sublime,  sweet,  simple,  sad,  in  attitude  and  look.  The  Apos- 
tles are  a  glorious  company  of  venerable  men,  so  variously 
arranged,  in  attitude  and  drapery,  that  you  detect  no  similarity, 
and  yet  with  a  severity  of  simplicity  that  cannot  be  surpassed. 
I  think,  that  out  of  all  the  Apostles,  of  all  the  masters  of 
painting,  that  I  have  seen,  it  would  "not  be  easy  to  select 
twelve  which  should  be  altogether  superior. 

"  But  the  other  group  is  my  favorite ;  indeed,  that  I  have 
«poken  of  is  not  a  group,  as  each  figure  is  to  stand  in  a  sep- 


JR.  83 

arate  niche.  John  the  Baptist  is  truly  a  group,  to  be  placed 
in  the  pediment  of  the  church.  The  only  thing  in  antiquity 
to  be  compared  to  it,  is  the  celebrated  and  admired  group  of 
Niobe  and  her  Children.  Now  I  do  not  admire  that ;  it 
doubtless  displays  great  skill,  but  it  wants  simplicity  and 
nature.  It  is  not  a  copy  from  nature,  but  from  the  stage, — a 
group  of  ballet-dancers ;  Niobe  herself  is  careful  to  hold  her 
garment  gracefully  in  all  her  woe,  and  the  children  are  think- 
ing of  displaying  their  postures,  and  holding  up  the  folds  of 
their  drapery  tastefully,  instead  of  being  absorbed  by  the  ter- 
rors of  the  moment.  Nothing  like  this  in  the  group  of  John  ; 
all  is  easy,  unembarrassed,  unaffected,  unconscious  nature. 
The  Baptist  is  a  thin,  haggard  man,  filled  with  his  subject, 
and  uttering  himself  vehemently  ;  his  hand  raised  powerfully, 
not  gracefully,  and  his  eye  fixed,  as  if  his  mind  were  working 
with  all  its  might.  The  people  around  him  are  just  those 
whom  you  might  suppose  to  be  present  at  his  preaching. 
They  describe  various  classes  and  ages  of  hearers,  and  each 
may  be  said  to  be  a  model  of  its  class.  I  cannot  remember 
the  order  of  the  whole,  but  it  was  something  like  this  :  On 
his  left  hand  stands  a  huntsman,  leaning  on  his  pole,  with  his 
dog  at  his  side,  which  takes  up  the  attention  of  two  little  boys 
just  behind  him,  one  of  whom  is  pointing  to  him,  and  the 
other,  a  little  older,  seems  divided  in  attention  between  the 
dog  and  the  preacher.  Then  stands  a  fine  noble  soldier  in 
his  armor ;  then  a  figure  whose  description  I  forget  (it  was 
standing  apart  in  another  room,  and  I  saw  it  but  once)  ;  then 
a  mother  sitting  with  eye  intent  on  the  speaker,  with  her  arm 
embracing  a  little  child,  who  is  leaning  his  head  sweetly  on 
her  lap  ;  then  a  young  man,  reclining  at  his  length,  and  look- 
ing over  his  shoulder  at  the  preacher.  On  his  right  hand  you 
see,  first,  a  young  man  with  his  arms  folded  ;  then  an  elderly 
man,  with  a  young  man  behind,  leaning  on  his  shoulder  ;  then 
a  mother,  kneeling,  and  a  child,  of  eight  or  ten,  looking  over 
her  shoulder  ;  then  an  aged  man,  sittincf,  his  knees  rather 


84~  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

raised,  and  both  his  hands  resting  on  his  cane,  and  his  head 
on  his  hands.  Here,  you  see,  is  almost  every  age,  each  in 
its  characteristic  attitude,  and  each  with  its  peculiar  expression 
of  attention.  Perhaps  the  finest  things  are,  the  old  man,  on 
one  side,  and  the  mother,  with  the  child's  head  in  her  lap,  on 
the  other ;  though  one  hardly  ventures  to  say.  I  am  sorry 
that  I  did  not  study  it  with  a  view  to  describe  it  to  you,  as  I 
could  then  have  been  particular.  I  was  sorry  to  find,  that  it 
is  impossible  to  procure  casts  of  it,  or  of  any  of  its  figures. 
It  was  only  the  day  before  leaving  Rome  that  I  discovered 
it  had  been  engraved,  and  I  made  two  vain  attempts  to  pro- 
cure it.  I  hope  still  to  procure  the  engraving.  If  I  had  not 
said  so  much,  I  could  tell  you  of  some  of  his  single  figures ; 
but  enough  for  the  present." 

TO    HIS    BROTHER   JOHN. 

"  Geneva,  May  9,  1S30. 
"  In  my  last,  I  only  spoke  out  more  plainly,  what  has  for 
some  time  been  my  conviction,  that  I  am  gaining  nothing ; 
and  I  simply  wished  to  have  you  prepared  for  a  proper  recep- 
tion of  my  Miserahility  when  I  should  return.  I  regret  hav- 
ing hinted  at  a  longer  stay,  because  it  was  only  a  transient 
thought,  is  a  thing  impossible  to  be  done,  and  could  be  of  no 
advantage.  Since  writing,  I  have  been  better  and  worse,  and, 
on  my  journey,  am  still  in  the  midst  of  changes.  My  worst 
thing  is  an  insufferable  lassitude  of  body  and  mind,  so  that  to 
do  anything,  even  to  read,  is  a  burden,  except  at  moments  ; 
and,  as  for  my  pulse,  I  have  not  detected  it  doing  its  duty  with 
proper  deliberation  for  many  weeks.  They  try  to  persuade 
me,  that  all  has  been  owing  to  the  Sirocco  winds  of  the 
Mediterranean  ;  but  I  know  better.  The  extreme  heat  of  the 
weather,  for  the  last  ten  days,  has  prevented  my  taking  all  the 
exercise  I  intended  ;  but  I  have  ridden  on  horseback  or  walked 
part  of  the  distance  every  day.  I  hope  in  this  way  to  realize 
some  benefit." 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  85 

to  the  same. 

«  Paris,  May  30. 
"  You  will  have  seen,  by  my  letter  from  Rome  about  eight 
weeks  ago,  that  we  have  here  gone  through  very  much  the 
same  course  of  thought  with  yourself;  your  views,  (I  mean 
of  the  uncertainty  of  my  case,)  are  not  new  to  us,  and  we 
only  thank  you  for  speaking  plainly.  I  am  sure  I  need  not 
stay  away  ;  I  am  sure  I  am  not  fit  to  do  any  hard  work ;  I  do 
'not  think  I  could  edit  '  The  Examiner.'  But  I  will  come 
home  by  the  packet  of  July  20th,  and  you  shall  judge.  It 
will  be  the  hardest  of  all  I  have  yet  done  to  abstain  from 
Cambridge,  especially  as  Mr.  Norton  vacates  his  place,  and 
there  is  the  more  need  of  other  laborers.  And,  for  myself, 
I  think  on  the  whole  I  had  better  do  what  I  can  there,  than 
attempt  anything  else,  unless  the  friends  of  the  Institution  can 
at  once  supply  my  place,  which,  if  they  will  do,  I  will  cheerfully 
give  way.  I  certainly  cannot  fancy  anything  more  to  my  mind 
than  the  duties  of  such  a  place ;  but,  as  I  care  for  the  Institu- 
tion quite  as  much  as  for  my  own  gratification,  to  say  the 
least,  I  would  not  on  any  account  be  a  hindrance  to  the 
appointment  of  some  active  man  who  can  do  what  I  cannot  do. 
But  of  this  when  I  get  home." 

The  following  letter,  which  he  received  from  his 
father  during  his  absence,  Avas  occasioned  by  his  own, 
written  on  the  outward  voyage.  * 

"  Cambridge,  June  13,  1S29. 
"  My  DEAR  Son, 

"  Thursday  Morning,  June  11  th,  I  first  heard  of  your  safe 
arrival  at  Liverpool,  and,  half  an  hour  afterward,  had  the 
additional  and  unexpected  delight  of  finding  your  letter  of 

*  See  page  34. 
VOL.  IT.  S 


86  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

May  1st,  in  the  post-office.  We  participate,  faintly,  indeed, 
but  sincerely,  in  the  joy  and  gratitude  which  you  must  have 
felt,  upon  finding  yourselves  carried  safely  through  such 
unusual  scenes  of  suffering  and  danger.  That  you  should  be 
feeble,  after  such  extraordinary  excitement,  was  to  be  expected. 
I  hope  and  trust,  that  the  excitement  of  a  very  different  kind, 
which  followed  your  landing  on  the  coast  of  Europe,  will 
soon  have  restored  your  strength,  and  enabled  you,  before  this 
time,  to  feel  some  of  the  benefits  of  your  voyage.  I  receive 
great  satisfaction  from  the  courage,  and  hope  and  trust  in 
Providence,  which  you  express.  No  one  has  certainly  more 
peculiar  cause  than  you  have,  to  trace  the  hand  of  a  kind 
Providence  in  sustaining  you  through  trials,  and  pointing  out 
the  course  of  duty.  That  you  are  not  more  exhausted  than 
you  are,  by  so  rough  a  passage,  both  in  body  and  spirits,  seems 
to  me  a  reasonable  ground  for  hope,  that  your  health  will  be 
improved  by  the  voyage,  as  soon  as  you  shall  have  recovered 
from  its  immediate  effects.  It  certainly  gives  much  relief  to 
my  anxiety  for  you  (more  of  which  I  felt  than  I  was  willing 
to  express,  when  we  parted)  ;  and  I  cherish  the  confident 
hope,  that  you  will  be  permitted  to  return  to  us,  and,  in  a  life 
of  labor  and  usefulness,  have  an  opportunity  of  expressing  the 
deep  sense  which  you  feel,  of  obligation  to  the  kindness  of 
friends,  and  of  the  good  opinion  and  confidence  so  extensively 
extended  to  you  by  the  community. 

"  You  speak  of  the  influence  of  early  disci- 
pline upon  your  character  and  prospects  in  the  world.  What- 
ever that  influence  may  have  been,  you  must  carry  your 
thoughts  to  a  higher  source  than  you  seem  to  do.  Very  little 
is  to  be  attributed  to  any  exertions  of  mine.  If  you,  or  any 
of  my  children,  are  under  any  obligations  to  me  in  this  respect, 
it  is  rather  for  what  I  have  not  done,  than  for  what  I  have  done 
for  you.  Few  parents,  in  similar  situations,  have  probably 
done  less,  in  the  way  of  instruction  or  of  discipline,  than 
myself.     I  have  sometimes  had  severe  visitino^s  of  shame  and 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,   JR.  87 

regret,  for  having  so  much  neglected  niy  duty  towards  those 
whom  Providence  had  entrusted  to  my  care  and  guidance. 
But,  at  other  times,  I  have  been  led,  by  the  result,  to  think  it 
was  better  for  you,  than  if  I  had  forced  upon  you  more  instruc- 
tion, and  a  more  exact  discipline ;  that  a  kind  Providence  has 
done  better  for  you,  than,  by  distrusting  its  care,  and  endea- 
voring to  take  you  out  of  its  hands,  I  could  have  done  myself. 
At  any  rate,  I  see  few  of  those  parents  who  have  been  far 
more  liberal  in  their  expenses,  and  far  more  abundant  in  their 
cares,  instruction,  restraint,  and  guidance,  than  myself,  who  I 
think  have  more  just  occasion  for  gratitude  and  satisfaction  in 
the  result." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

SEPARATION  FROM  HIS  PARISH — ENTRANCE  ON  HIS  PROFESSORSHIP 
—  STATE  OF  THE  DIVINITY  SCHOOL  — INTRODUCTORY  ADDRESS  — 
NATURE  OF  HIS  DUTIES  AND  HIS  MODE  OF  INSTRUCTION  — TRACT 
ON  "  THE  FORMATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  CHARACTER"  — HE  RE- 
SUMES PREACHINCr— EXCURSION  TO  THE  WHITE  HILLS— SICKNESS 
AT    CONCORD,    N.    H. 

1830-31.     iET.  36-37. 

It  had  been  desired  by  many  of  Mr.  Ware's  friends, 
that  his  connexion  with  his  people  in  Boston  should  con- 
tinue after  he  had  assumed  the  professorship  at  Cam- 
bridge, with  the  hope  that  he  might  still  perform  some 
of  the  duties  of  their  minister.  It  was  obvious  to  him, 
however,  that  this  would  be  merely  a  matter  of  form ; 
and  to  a  mere  formal  connexion  of  this  character, 
where  no  corresponding  duties  or  obligations  were 
implied,  he  had  the  strongest  repugnance.  Before 
removing  to  Cambridge,  therefore,  he  asked  a  dismission 
from  his  parish.  His  letter  closed  with  the  following 
words. 

"  In  thus  seeking  to  dissolve  a  bond  which  has  so  long 
united  us,  it  is  a  high  gratification  to  remember,  that  it  has 
been  so  happy  a  one,  and  to  feel  that  we  separate  as  Christian 
friends,  who  will  still  retain  an  interest  in  each  other.  I  look 
back  with  grateful  recollection  on  j'our  uniform  liberality, 
kindness,  and  indulgence.  I  feel  grateful,  that  I  am  not  to 
leave  you  alone,  but  have  seen  you  already  provided  with  an 
able  administration  of  the  word  and  ordinances.     And  it  is  a 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    AVARE,   JR.  89 

particular  pleasure  to  feel,  that  I  shall  still  be  near  you,  and 
enjoy  the  opportunity  of  sometimes  exchanging  with  you  the 
offices  of  Christian  friendship." 

In  acceding  to  his  request,  the  parish,  through  its 
committee,  conveyed  to  him  the  following  exnression 
of  the  feelings  to  which  the  occasion  gave  rise. 

"  In  reviewing  the  circumstances  of  our  connexion,  we  look 
back  upon  the  events  of  many  years,  endeared  to  us  and  to 
our  families  by  the  memory  of  your  kindness,  your  sympathy, 
and  your  Christian  fidelity. 

"  In  sickness  and  sorrow,  how  often  have  you  come  to  us 
with  the  comforts  and  hopes  of  the  gospel.  In  the  day  of  our 
prosperity,  how  has  the  value  of  the  good  granted  us  been 
increased  by  your  rejoicing  together  with  us,  and  leading  us 
to  make  it  the  occasion  of  a  greater  good  hereafter.  How 
often,  in  our  afflictions,  have  we  leaned  upon  you,  and,  while 
we  have  been  comforted,  have  been  taught  to  put  our  trust  in 
Him  who  is  able  to  save.  How  have  we  seen  the  eye  of  the 
dying,  when  the  light  of  life  was  fading  from  it,  turned 
upwards  to  that  brighter  light  from  heaven  ;  and  the  heart  of 
the  mourner  set  upon  that  better  mansion,  which  our  Master 
has  gone  to  prepare.  If  occasions  have  sometimes  occurred  in 
which  we  were  divided  in  opinion,  and  had  begun  to  be  alien- 
ated in  feeling,  how  have  our  differences  ceased  when  you 
have  come  among  us,  in  the  spirit  and  with  the  influences  of 
the  Gospel  of  Peace. 

"  It  is  pleasant  to  us  to  dwell  upon  these  recollections. 
They  are  deeply  seated  in  our  inmost  hearts;  and,  mingled 
as  they  are  with  the  image  of  your  truth,  and  love,  and  faith- 
fulness, they  can  never  leave  us. 

"  We  had  hoped  that  many  such  years  were  in  store  for 
us.  Those  of  us,  who  are  tottering  upon  the  verge  of  life,  had 
hoped,  that  you  might  be  by  us  in  the  last  trying  hour, — that 

VOL.  II.  8"^ 


90  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

the  prayer  for  strength  in  the  dark  valley,  might  be  offered  by 
you.  Those  of  us,  whose  ties  to  life  are  strengthened  and 
renewed  in  our  children,  had  hoped  for  your  aid  and  counsel 
in  leading  them  to  the  fountain  of  life  ;  we  had  hoped  to  see 
them  formed  under  your  influence,  and  to  be  able  to  point 
them  to  your  example.  All  of  us  had  hoped  long  to  walk 
with  you,  to  hear  your  voice  in  the  pulpit  and  at  the  altar, 
and  to  enjoy  the  privilege  of  a  relationship,  which  we  felt  to 
be  of  a  better  and  higher  character  than  that  of  common 
friendship. 

"  The  wisdom  of  Providence  willed  it  otherwise.  We  saw 
you  worn  out  and  fainting  in  our  service.  We  anxiously 
watched  the  progress  of  your  disease,  and  saw  you  depart  for 
a  foreign  land.  Our  prayers  have  been  answered  in  your 
return  to  your  native  shores,  with  health  in  some  measure 
restored.  And,  while  w^e  lament  that  you  have  not  yet 
strength  to  enter  again  upon  those  duties,  from  the  discharge 
of  which  we  had  promised  ourselves  such  large  benefit,  we 
thank  God  that  you  are  not  to  be  lost  to  the  church,  but  that 
you  have  been  called  to  an  office  in  which  your  powers  will 
be  employed  in  awakening  in  others,  who  have  taken  up  the 
cross  of  Christ,  the  zeal,  devotion,  and  self-denial,  which  may 
fit  them  to  become  his  faithful  ministers. 

"  We  pray,  that,  in  this  work  and  in  all  the  relations  of  life, 
you  may  be  blessed. 

"  We  should  do  injustice  to  our  feelings,  if  we  failed,  on 
this  occasion,  to  make  mention  of  her  also,  who  has  laid  us 
under  such  obligations  by  her  devotedness  to  you,  when  we 
looked  upon  you  as  belonging  to  ourselves,  and  who,  though 
not  long  with  us,  had  already  taught  us  how  highly  to  value, 
and  how  deeply  to  regret  her. 

"  We  thank  you  for  the  kind  interest  you  continue  to  feel  in 
our  welfare.  We  are  grateful,  that  you  do  not  leave  us  alone, 
but  that  our  common  wishes  have  been  gratified  in  another 
pastor,  in  whom  we  are  happily  united,  and  who  is  able  to 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  91 

take  your  place  in  the  administering  of  the  word  and  ordi- 
nances. 

"  While  we  listen  to  him,  we  shall  not  cease  to  remember 
you;  and  we  rejoice  that  you  will  be  near  us,  and  trust  we 
may  still  have  the  privilege  of  calling  you  our  friend. 

"  May  the  blessing  of  God  be  always  with  you." 

He  was  desirous  of  preaching  a  farewell  discourse ; 
but,  this  being  manifestly  inexpedient,  he  contented 
himself  with  the  delivery  of  a  short  address  to  the  con- 
gregation, in  addition  to  the  usual  services  of  the  next 
Sabbath,  from  which  the  following  extracts  are  made. 

"  The  bond  between  minister  and  people  is  close  and  pecu- 
liar. It  ought  not  to  be  formed  inconsiderately ;  it  must  not 
be  broken  rashly.  Strong,  deep,  fervent  affections  are  bound 
up  with  it ;  tender  and  intimate  feelings  surround  and  hallow 
it.  When  confirmed  by  time  and  intimacy,  if  it  should  be 
rudely  ruptured,  many  hearts  are  torn  ;  even  when  gently 
severed,  many  hearts  bleed.  Our  separation  (blessed  be  He, 
who  in  judgment  always  remembers  mercy,)  is  not  sudden 
nor  abrupt, — is  not  the  consequence  of  dissension,  dissatisfac- 
tion, or  division,— has  not  been  sought  or  desired  on  either 
side.  It  is  the  gradual  result  of  circumstances,  ordered  not  by 
man,  but  by  an  uncontrollable  Providence,  which  arrested  the 
minister  in  the  midst  of  his  labors,  when  he  was  engaged  in 
them  with  more  than  usual  satisfaction,  and  more  than  usual 
encouragement; — a  Providence,  which,  having  withdrawn 
him  from  your  service,  presented  to  you  at  once  a  man  on 
whom  your  hearts  could  rest,  and  provided  for  him  another 
sphere  of  duty.  We  separate,  therefore,  in  unbroken  good- 
will ;  and  commend  each  other  to  God  as  we  part,  not  only 
from  a  sense  of  Christian  duty,  but  with  a  warm  sentiment  of 
brotherly  affection.  It  is  a  reason  for  devout  gratitude  to-day, 
that,  with  all  the  trials  which  have  borne  upon  us,  and  intro- 


92  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

duced  this  event,  we  have  been  spared  that  bitterest  of  all, — 
alienation  and  dissension. 

"  If  I  were  to  mention  all  that  I  discern  in 

the  past  of  error,  negligence,  unfaithfulness,  on  my  own  part, 
I  should  only  unnecessarily  pain  you,  and  perhaps  seem  to  be 
making  an  exhibition  of  humility.  But  some  of  you  will 
understand  me  when  I  say,  that  I  feel  I  need  their  forgiveness 
for  instances  of  what  must  have  seemed  to  them  culpable 
remissness ;  and  I  cannot  be  at  ease,  except  by  hoping  that 
they  have  granted  it.  Indeed,  no  one  who  has  not  expe- 
rienced the  difficulty  of  always  doing  all  that  is  to  be  done  in 
the  complicated  and  trying  walks  of  the  pastoral  office,  can 
guess  with  what  bitterness  a  minister  is  sometimes  compelled 
to  reproach  himself,  and  how  the  kind  approbation  of  his 
friends  serves  only  to  humble  and  rebuke  him  under  a  con- 
sciousness that  he  ill  deserves  it.  For  you, — you  have  borne 
with  my  weakness,  overlooked  my  neglects,  been  liberal  to  my 
necessities,  candid  to  my  faults.  I  can  only  thank  you  for 
that  indulgence  which 'has  made  my  path  pleasantness  and 
peace,  and  beseech  you  to  cheer  the  way  of  my  successor  with 
similar  kindness. 

"  Yet,  whatever  may  have  been  my  failure  in  executing  the 
plan  of  my  ministry,  with  the  plan  itself  I  perceive  no  reason 
to  be  dissatisfied.  Being  persuaded  that  the  private  duties  of 
personal  and  pastoral  intercourse  are  at  least  as  important  as 
the  public  exercises  of  the  pulpit,  and  in  fact  necessary  to  their 
efficiency  and  success,  it  has  been  my  wish  and  purpose  to 
give  much  of  my  time  and  affections  peculiarly  to  this  sphere 
of  action.  If  I  have  done  any  good,  I  attribute  it  almost 
entirely  to  the  opportunities  and  power  which  I  have  in  this 
way  gained.  That  I  have  done  no  more,  I  feel  now  to  be 
mainly  owing  to  remissness,  irresolution,  and  want  of  exact 
method  in  prosecuting  this,  the  most  difficult  as  well  as 
important  department  of  the  minister's  labors. 

"  Brethren,  my  work  among  you  is  ended. 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WAKE,    JR.  93 

Such  as  it  has  been,  it  is  over.  For  you,  and  for  me,  the 
account  is  sealed  up  for  a  solemn  judgment.  The  day  is 
coming  which  will  try  it  as  with  fire,  and  disclose  to  us  its 
true  character,  with  all  its  lasting  consequences.  Join  me, 
brethren,  in  the  prayer,  that  God  will  show  mercy  in  that 
day! 

"  Meantime  we  are  to  finish  our  mortal  probation  apart. 
Yet  I  cannot  feel  that  I  shall  be  separated  from  you.  This 
house  will  long  seem  to  me  my  own  religious  home,  and 
those  who  v/orship  here,  the  members  of  my  own  religious 
household.  Still,  as  returns  the  hallowed  day,  my  spirit  will 
come  up  among  you,  as  it  has  done  from  across  the  ocean,  and 
amid  the  worship  of  strange  lands,  to  join  in  your  praises,  and 
bend  with  you  at  the  mercy-seat.  And  when  the  day  shall 
arrive,  that  these  temples  have  mouldered,  and  all  earthly 
worship  ceased, — when  the  scattered  congregations  of  the 
saints  shall  assemble  together  with  the  church  of  the  first-born 
in  heaven, — then,  too,  it  is  my  hope  and  prayer  that  we  shall 
be  found  side  by  side  in  the  worship  of  eternity,  and  accom- 
pany one  another  still  in  that  career  of  infinite  progress  and 
spiritual  glory,  which  we  commenced  together  here. 

"  In  this  hope,  I  bid  you,— as  your  minister, — farewell.  I 
rejoice  that  I  do  not  leave  you  alone,  but  to  the  guidance  of 
able  hands,  and  to  the  instruction  of  faithful  lips.  God  bestow 
upon  your  minister  and  upon  you  the  choicest  of  spiritual 
blessings!  May  he  lead,  support,  encourage,  cheer,  and  save 
you !  May  the  spirit  of  Christ  dwell  in  you  richly  with  all 
wisdom  ;  and  the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understand- 
ing, abide  among  you  and  sanctify  you  always ! " 

Thus  terminated  his  course  as  a  Minister  of  the  Gos- 
pel. He  now  discontinued  the  special  exercise  of  that 
function  which  had  always  been  held  in  his  regard  as 
the  highest,  the  holiest,  the  most  desirable  on  earth. 
To  fill  well  the  office  of  a  minister  of  Christ  had  been 


94  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

the  dream  of  his  childhood,  the  determined  purpose  of 
his  youth,  the  object  to  which  he  had  devoted  the 
whole  heart  and  head  of  his  mature  life.  So  far  as 
reputation,  character,  influence  in  his  profession  Avere 
concerned,  he  had  met  with  a  success  far  beyond  his 
most  sanguine  expectations ;  and,  so  far  as  he  had  in 
view  the  better  purpose  of  doing  good  to  his  fellow- 
men,  he  had  the  best  reason  for  believing,  that,  whilst 
his  labors  had  been  always  acceptable,  they  had  also 
been  useful.  The  relation  of  a  minister  in  our  com- 
munities is  not  confined,  however,  to  the  people  of  his 
particular  charge.  He  maintains  a  certam  connexion, 
also,  with  society  at  large ;  and,  as  I  cannot  venture  to 
spealv  in  my  own  person  of  the  estimation  in  which  my 
brother  was  held,  or  the  influence  he  exercised  at  the 
time  of  his  leaving  Boston,  1  am  happy  to  be  able  to 
do  it  in  the  Avords  of  one  who  knew  him  well,  and  had 
been  for  many  years  his  highly  valued  fellow-laborer. 

FK03r   A    SERr-ION    BY    MR.    GAN^^ETT. 

"  I  have  often  thought,  that,  in  him  of  whom  we  are  speak- 
ing, might  he  seen  an  example  of  the  force  of  character  in 
commanding  influence.  During  the  latter  part  of  his  ministry 
in  this  city,  I  suppose  no  other  person  possessed  so  entirely 
the  confidence  of  our  citizens.  Always  acceptable  and  highly 
esteemed  as  a  preacher,  yet  his  gifts  in  public  discourse  were 
not  of  that  extraordinary  kind  which  makes  their  possessor  an 
idol  or  a  sovereign  with  the  people.  His  modes  of  life  were 
unostentatious,  and  his  personal  manners  tinged  with  an 
appearance  of  abstraction  or  indifference.  He  did  nothing  to 
court  popularity,  or  secure  the  favorable  regards  of  any  class 
of  people.  Yet  he  was,  beyond  all  doubt,  at  the  time  to 
which  I  refer,  the  one  man  in  Boston  on  whom  men  of  all 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  95 

parties  and  all  denominations  and  all  classes  bestowed  unqual- 
ified esteem.  Does  not  the  universal  regard  in  which  he  was 
held,  and  of  which  we  have  been  reminded  by  various  proofs 
since  his  death,  show  the  worth  of  a  character  in  which  no 
one  can  detect  a  blemish?" 

He  removed  to  Cambridge  in  October,  1830.  His 
health,  in  the  interval  which  had  elapsed  since  his 
return,  had  very  much  improved.  By  his  journeying, 
and  also  probably  by  his  long  escape  from  wearing  and 
exhausting  labors,  a  favorable  impression  had  obviously 
been  made  on  his  constitution,  which  had  not  even  yet 
shown  its  full  effects.  But,  though  thus  rejoicing  in 
his  own  renewed  capacity  for  duty,  he  was  destined  to 
undergo  a  great  degree  of  anxiety  for  some  months  of 
this  and  the  following  year,  on  account  of  the  health  of 
his  wife,  who  suffered  severely,  and  for  a  long  time, 
from  serious  pulmonary  complaints.  This  anxiety 
was  in  no  slight  degree  aggravated  by  the  reflection, 
that  her  illness  was,  in  part  at  least,  induced  by  the 
exposure,  fatigue,  and  anxiety,  which  she  had  under- 
gone during  his  own  protracted  sickness.  He  had  the 
happiness,  in  the  ensuing  spring,  of  witnessing  her 
complete  recovery. 

It  has  been  already  stated,  that,  for  a  long  time 
before  the  establishment  of  a  regular  school  for  theo- 
logical instruction  in  the  University  in  Cambridge, 
many  persons,  especially  graduates  of  tlie  College,  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  residing  there,  during  a  part  at 
least  of  the  period  of  their  preparation  for  the  ministry. 
Before  the  organization  of  the  School,  they  had  been 
unofficially  under  the  superintendence  of  the  Professor 
of  Divinity;  but,  at  the  time  of  Mr.  Ware's  accession  to 


96  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

the  professorship,  the  theological  department  was  in 
operation,  and  was  recognized  as  a  part  of  the  regular 
course  of  instruction  in  the  University.  It  was  under 
the  charge  of  his  father,  then  Hollis  Professor  of  Divin- 
ity, and  of  Mr.  Norton,  who  held  the  office  of  Dexter 
Professor  of  Sacred  Literature.  With  them  he  was 
therefore  at  once  associated  in  his  new  duties;  and 
from  such  a  connexion  he  had  reason  to  anticipate,  not 
only  an  intercourse  most  agreeable  and  instructive  to 
himself  personally,  but  the  most  happy  results  on  the 
prospects  of  the  Institution.  No  one  could  enter  upon 
an  office  with  a  more  deep  feeling  of  its  importance, 
and  of  the  great  responsibility  he  assumed ;  for,  looking 
on  the  calling  of  a  clergyman  in  the  light  he  did,  he 
would  of  course  regard  the  place  of  him,  who  was  to 
be  engaged  in  preparing  individuals  for  it,  as  of  a  still 
higher  and  more  responsible  nature. 

The  views  with  which  he  entered  on  the  duties 
before  him  were  embodied  in  an  '  Introductory  Ad- 
dress,' which  was  delivered  to  the  members  of  the 
School  in  October,  and  published  at  their  request.  The 
subjects  of  this  Address  are  thus  announced  : 

"  These  two  branches  [the  Eloquence  of  the  Pulpit  and  the 
Pastoral  Care]  go  together,  and  sustain  each  other.  The 
minister  is  the  better  preacher  for  having  his  heart  warmed  by 
intercourse  with  his  hearers  in  private  ;  and  he  goes  to  them 
in  private  with  the  greater  influence  and  effect,  because  he 
carries  with  him  the  sacredness  and  sanction  of  the  Pulpit. 
The  full  power  of  the  Christian  ministry  can  be  known  only 
where  both  departments  are  exercised  with  faithfulness ;  and 
he  entirely  errs,  who  fancies  he  may  neglect  either,  and  yet 
command  the  best  success  in  the  other.  It  is  to  the  union  of 
the  two,  that  we  must  look  for  the  efficient  and  complete  min- 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR.  97 

ister.  And  I  think  we  cannot  better  introduce  our  labors  in 
this  department  than  by  attempting  to  illustrate  this  important 
truth." 

By  the  Eloquence  of  the  Pulpit,  as  a  thing  to  be  taught,  he 
does  not  mean  "  that  high  and  singular  gift,  that  extraordinary 
combination  of  powers  and  attainments,  which  the  books  de- 
scribe as  the  property  of  the  orator ;  for  men  so  splendidly 
endowed  are  but  few  in  an  age ;  and  the  church,  if  it  must 
depend  on  them,  would  soon  perish  for  want  of  advocates.  It 
is  not  this,  which  our  institutions  propose  to  teach,  or  which 
our  students  aim  to  acquire.  What  we  propose  is,  simply, 
the  power  and  habit  to  select  judiciously,  arrange  clearly,  and 
express  forcibly  and  fervently,  the  topics  suited  to  the  pul- 
pit ;  and  to  utter  them  with  that  distinct,  correct,  and  pleasant 
elocution,  which  shall  ensure  for  them  the  attention  of  the 
people.  Thus  much  is  capable  of  being  learned ;  and  this  is 
what  we  mean  by  Pulpit  Eloquence,  when  we  propose  it  as 
something  to  be  attained." 

"  By  the  Pastoral  Care,"  he  goes  on  to  say,  "  we  under- 
stand that  duty  towards  individuals  and  families,  which  con- 
sists in  personal  acquaintance  and  intercourse  for  the  purpose 
of  knowing  the  character  and  condition  of  the  flock,  that  so  the 
minister  may  be  ready  to  derive  opportunities  of  usefulness 
among  them,  in  either  their  temporal  or  spiritual  relations,  by 
giving  counsel,  instruction,  reproof,  encouragement,  consola- 
tion, according  to  situation  and  character.  We  do  not  regard 
it  as  consisting  in  what  appears  sometimes  to  be  understood 
by  the  term, — the  custom  of  simply  visiting  as  a  friend,  or 
making  calls  from  house  to  house  ;  much  less  ceremonious  or 
party  visiting,  or  social  tea-drinkings.  Some  ministers  have 
much  intercourse  with  their  people,  or  rather  with  a  certain 
portion  of  them,  in  this  way ;  but  this  is  not  doing  parochial 
duty.  Social  visiting  is  well.  It  has  its  uses ;  indirectly,  its 
religious  uses.  But  pastoral  visiting  has  directly  its  religious 
uses.     The  pastor  goes  '  from  house  to  house,'  like  the  Apos- 

VOL.  II.  9 


98  LIFE   OF   HENRY   "WAREj   JR. 

lies,  with  an  expressly  religious  object ;  and  he  executes  it, 
not  only  in  sympathizing  vnih.  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  his 
people,  and  administering  advice  in  sickness,  and  comfort  in 
affliction  ;  but  also  in  communing  with  them  on  their  religious 
interests,  and  applying  himself  to  their  spiritual  ignorance, 
trials,  doubts,  perplexities,  and  progress.  It  is  to  this  that  we 
especially  refer,  when  we  speak  of  the  advantages  he  must 
derive  as  a  preacher  from  the  discharge  of  his  duties  as  a 
pastor." 

The  remainder  of  the  discourse  was  occupied  in  illus- 
trating at  large  the  necessity  and  importance  of  this 
connexion  between  the  two  branches  of  ministerial  ac- 
tion, and  the  support  which  each  furnishes  to  the  other. 
It  concluded  with  the  following  passage  : 

"  I  have  now  said  what  I  designed,  to  show  the  mutual 
dependence  and  reciprocal  influence  of  the  Eloquence  of  the 
Pulpit  and  the  Pastoral  Care.  It  is  the  union  of  these  which 
forms  the  complete  and  effective  minister.  It  is  such  minis- 
ters that  we  desire  to  send  forth  to  the  churches ;  '  eloquent 
men  and  mighty  in  the  Scriptures  ;'  who  shall  carry  into  the 
pulpit  the  best  gifts  of  utterance  and  persuasion,  and  the  most 
affectionate  zeal  for  the  salvation  of  men ;  and  who  shall  move 
amongst  their  people  with  the  kindness  of  friends,  and  the 
cheerful  gravity  of  men  of  God.  That  you  may  become  such, 
is  to  be  the  object  of  your  and  my  unceasing  and  solicitous 
study. 

"  You  are  called  to  be  Preachers  and  Pastors.  It  is  for 
this  that  your  whole  discipline  is  to  prepare  you.  The  learn- 
ing and  exactness  of  the  study,  the  musings  and  devotions  of 
the  closet,  the  watchfulness  and  discipline  of  daily  life,  all  are 
to  combine  in  fitting  you  for  the  solemn  function  of  preaching 
God's  truth  to  a  sinning  and  slumbering  world,  and  of  cuiding 


JR.  99 

and  counselling  men  in  the  most  interesting  concerns  of  the 
human  soul. 

"  Let  me  exhort  you,  then,  to  look  forward  habitually  to 
the  day  when  this  charge  of  souls  shall  be  actually  in  your 
hands,  and  to  consider  by  what  preparation  you  shall  be  able  to 
acquit  yourselves  in  it  satisfactorily  and  acceptably.  Contem- 
plate the  Pulpit,  from  which  you  are  to  speak  to  God  in  behalf 
of  the  congregation ;  and  realize  with  what  devotion  and  ele- 
vation of  spirit  you  should  be  imbued,  in  order  rightly  to  carry 
up  the  general  offering  of  praise  and  supplication ; — the  Pul- 
pit, from  which  you  are  to  address  men  on  the  loftiest  themes, 
and  awaken  their  dull  hearts  to  the  spiritual  things  from 
which  a  sensual  world  is  constantly  enticing  them ;  and  real- 
ize with  what  holy  earnestness  of  deep  conviction,  with  what 
suavity  and  vehemence  of  utterance,  with  what  clear  and 
energetic  reasoning,  with  what  intimate  knowledge  of  Scrip- 
tural truth,  of  Providence,  and  of  human  nature,  you  must  be 
filled  and  glowing,  in  order  worthily  to  execute  so  vast,  so 
various,  so  delicate,  so  responsible  a  trust.  Bring  this  thought 
before  you.  Keep  it  before  you.  Weigh  it,  feel  it,  under- 
stand it.  You  w^ill  then  cheerfully  devote  yourselves  to  the 
severest  toils  which  shall  be  requisite  to  accomplish  a  thorough 
preparation. 

"  Look  also  to  the  Pastoral  relation.  Consider  what  it  is  to 
be  the  religious  counsellor  of  hundreds  of  souls,  in  every  most 
trying  and  momentous  crisis  of  their  being.  Consider  what 
prudence  you  must  study,  what  wisdom  and  discretion  3^ou 
must  cultivate,  what  readiness,  what  patience,  what  forbear- 
ance, what  affection,  what  zeal;  above  all,  what  need  there  is 
of  a  spiritual  habit  of  m.ind,  a  fondness  for  religious  thought, 
a  heart  always  alive  to  sympathy  with  man,  and  ready  to  rise 
in  devotion  to  God.  You  will  then  comprehend  with  what 
diligence  you  are  now"  to  cultivate  your  affections,  and  live  as 
men  of  faith  and  prayer,  that  you  may  not  then  be  strangers 


100 


to  the  most  spiritual  part  of  your  labors,  but  may  go  to  them 
as  to  an  accustomed  and  welcome  occupation. 

"  Understand,  therefore,  the  importance  and  dignity  of  the 
work  you  are  to  undertake.  There  is  no  more  momentous 
trust  committed  to  human  hands.  There  is  no  higher  honor 
to  which  man  may  aspire  on  earth.  Office  more  responsible 
no  one  can  bear.  Duties  more  weighty  and  trying,  no  one 
can  assume.  They  are  the  office,  trust,  honors,  and  duties, 
which  once  were  borne  by  the  Son  of  God.  To  esteem  them 
lightly,  to  prepare  for  them  sluggishly,  is  the  extreme  of  folly 
and  of  sin.  It  is  to  seek  and  deserve  disappointment,  failure, 
and  contempt.  It  is  to  dare  the  displeasure  of  Heaven,  and 
darken  the  prospects  of  the  soul.  Be  persuaded,  then,  to 
set  your  standard  high.  Act  from  elevated  and  disinterested 
principles,  with  a  lofty  aim,  and  a  vigorous  perseverance.  In 
attainments  and  in  cliaracter  press  on  to  the  aliquid  immensum 
infinitumque  ;  or,  in  words  more  solemn  and  exciting  still, '  to 
the  mark  for  the  prize  of  your  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ 
Jesus  your  Lord.' 

"  It  is  to  help  you  in  this  arduous  and  almost  fearful  pre- 
paration, that  I  have  come  among  you.  I  truly  feel  that  I 
could  receive  no  more  interesting  or  important  charge.  And 
what  power  God  has  given  me,  what  skill  and  knowledge 
experience  may  have  taught  me,  may  be  more  than  occupied 
in  the  responsible  task.  I  will  do  what  I  can.  May  God 
grant  his  blessing !  I  only  ask  of  you  to  second  my  exertions, 
and  give  me  your  prayers." 

No  one  of  his  writings  conveys  so  lively  an  idea,  as 
this,  of  my  brother's  views  of  the  character  and  duty 
of  a  minister,  and  of  the  principles  and  feelings  which 
sliould  actuate  him  in  liis  labors  among  his  people.  It 
may  be  regarded  as  an  embodying  of  the  results  of  his 
own  experience  in  the  office,  an  exposition  of  the  prin- 


JR.  101 

ciples  by  which  he  had  been  himself  governed,  deriving 
confirmation  of  their  justness  from  the  success  which 
had  attended  their  appHcation  in  his  own  case.  It  par- 
ticularly dwells  upon  and  enforces,  Avhat  he  always 
regarded  as  lying  at  the  foundation  of  a  pastor's  useful- 
ness, and  thought  of  and  talked  of  the  more  because  it 
was  so  often  overlooked,  the  necessity  of  a  personal 
intercourse  between  the  pastor  and  his  people,  and  of  a 
personal  sympathy  between  them. 

This  address  was  republished  in  England,  and  from 
some  of  his  friends  there  he  received  the  most  cordial 
expressions  of  their  favorable  opinion. 

FROM   SnSS    JOANNA   BAILLIE. 

"  In  addition  to  your  former  very  gratifying  remembrance  of 
me,  from  which  I  received  great  pleasure,  I  have  now  to  thank 
you  for  a  copy  of  your  excellent  Introductory  Lecture  to  your 
course  on  Pulpit  and  Pastoral  Duties,  which  cannot  fail  to 
make  a  strong  and  salutary  impression  on  those  who  are  for- 
tunate enough  to  be  your  pupils.  What  a  happy  pastor  and 
happy  flock  they  would  be,  whose  ministers  should  follow  the 
perfect  model  you  so  eloquently  set  before  them  !  Some  of 
the  good  old  Presbyterian  clergymen,  whom  I  have  heard  of 
in  my  young  days,  the  immediate  successors  of  those  who  had 
so  bravely  withstood  the  persecutions  in  Charles  and  James 
the  Second's  times,  resembled  what  you  would  have  your  pu- 
pils to  be,  with  some  lack,  hov/ever,  of  that  liberality,  regard- 
ing the  opinions  of  others,  which  your  followers  will  always 
entertain.  May  you  go  on  prosperously  in  your  honorable 
and  important  task  !  and  may  it  please  God  to  spare  you  many 
years,  and  give  you  health  to  fulfil  it ! " 
VOL.  II.  9^ 


102  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 


FROM   MISS    EDGEWORTH. 


"  The  books  you  were  so  kind  as  to  send  me  by  a  country- 
man and  namesake  of  ours,  have  been  safely  delivered  to  us, 
and  I  return  you  sincere  thanks  for  the  pleasure  you  have 
given  me  in  so  many  ways.  I  was  in  the  first  place  truly 
gratified  by  your  remembering  your  too  short  visit  here  with 
so  much  satisfaction.  It  was  indeed  a  most  pleasing  visit  to 
us.  We  felt  that  you  suited  our  domestic  habits,  and  that  the 
more  we  had  seen  of  you,  the  more  we  should  have  esteemed 
and  liked  your  character. 

"  The  books  you  have  sent  confirm  me  in  this  conviction. 
The  '  Introductory  Address '  on  the  connexion  between  the 
Duties  of  the  Pulpit  and  the  Pastoral  Office  appears  to  me  to 
be  admirably  well  adapted  to  its  purpose.  I  cannot  conceive 
any  young  man  reading  it,  much  less  hearing  it,  without 
being  moved  to  good,  and  moved  steadily  and  permanently. 
The  Address  is  itself  the  example  of  all  it  recommends  with 
such  pious,  such  benevolent,  such  persuasive  eloquence, — elo- 
quence in  the  highest,  best  sense  of  the  word. 

"  I  think  even  in  Ireland,  and  at  this  moment  of  the  delirium 
of  party  spirit,  such  a  pastor  would  be  loved  and  respected, 
and  would  even  be  paid  his  tithes. 

"  I  particularly  like  what  you  say  of  the  influence  which 
the  pastoral  character  has,  even  on  the  mode  of  delivery.  It 
is  a  new  and  perfectly  just  observation.  The  being  in  earnest 
at  once  cures  affectation  and  all  the  defects  of  delivery  which 
have  any  hurtful  influence  on  the  congregation  in  distracting 
attention,  and  all  other  defects  are  of  little  consequence.  I 
have  observed,  that  preachers  who  have  been  very  defective  in 
pronunciation,  accent,  provincial  accent  I  mean,  have  never- 
theless, when  thoroughly  in  earnest,  commanded  the  minds  of 
their  hearers  more  than  the  most  eloquent  speakers.  Dr. 
Chalmers  is  an  example  of  this. 

"  When  Mrs.  Edgeworth  had  finished  reading  your  New 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    AVARE,    JR.  103 

Year's  sermon  on  *  The  Duty  of  Improvement,'  she  exclaimed, 
'  I  think  it  is  the  best  sermon  I  have  ever  read.'  I  had 
refrained  from  telling  her  what  I  thought  of  it,  being  anxious 
to  know  whether  we  agreed  in  opinion.  Her  exclamation 
delighted  me. 

"  In  the  volume  on '  The  Formation  of  the  Christian  Char- 
acter,' I  particularly  like  Chapter  the  Fifth,  on  '  The  Religious 
Discipline  of  Life,'  the  guard  to  be  kept  over  the  principles 
and  the  habits." 

It  did  not  lessen  his  sense  of  the  weight  of  responsi- 
bility which  rested  upon  him,  and  of  the  difficulties  of 
his  new  situation,  that  he  knew  very  well  that  much 
was  expected  of  the  influence,  which  he  was  deemed 
capable  of  exerting  on  the  pupils  of  the  School  in  that 
part  of  their  preparation  which  was  his  particular  prov- 
ince. I  cannot  doubt  that  he  felt  sometimes  oppressed 
by  this  consideration,  and  fearful  that  there  might  be 
disappointment  at  the  want  of  greater  results,  than 
there  was  any  reason  to  anticipate.  From  letters 
written  at  this  time  I  extract  the  following  passages, 
which,  besides  containing  allusion  to  this  point,  give  an 
account  of  the  mode  and  spirit,  in  which  he  entered  on 
his  task. 

to  mr.  allen. 

"  Caivibridge,  Novesiber  26,  1830. 
"  Things  are  promising,  and  an  excellent  spirit  prevails. 
My  duties  are  in  the  highest  degree  pleasant.  I  attend  the 
Senior  and  Middle  Classes  once  a  week  in  the  composition  of 
sermons  ; — not  formal  lectures,  but  free  discussion  amongst 
us,  in  which  they  take  part  with  spirit, — criticizing  sermons, — 
and  bringing  plans  and  skeletons  for  examination.  I  attend 
also  the  Senior  Class  once  a  week  in  reading,  by  Porter's 


104  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE,    JR. 

*  Analysis,'  as  a  text-book,  and  once  a  week  in  declamation. 
On  Wednesday  evening  I  have  three  or  four  to  lake  tea,  and 
talk  with  me,  (this  recently).  And  the  student  who  officiates 
in  preaching  on  Friday,  Saturday,  and  Sunday  evenings, 
comes  to  breakfast  the  following  morning,  and  I  go  over  with 
him  his  sermon,  as  thoroughly  as  possible. 

"  You  may  form  some  little  judgment  from  this,  what  my 
course  and  quality  of  employment  is.  Another  term  I  shall 
do  more.  I  have  far  more  power  of  application  than  I  expected 
to  find,  and  think  I  am  gaining  strength.  I  use  a  good  deal 
of  exercise ;  go  to  bed  early  and  rise  early  ;  and,  if  Mary  were 
but  well,  so  as  to  give  me  the  sort  of  help  which  I  hope  from 
her,  I  should  be  only  too  well  satisfied.  But  we  must  always 
have  some  drawback. 

"  This  account  I  send  in  reply  to  your  request  that  I  would 
tell  about  the  School  and  myself.  When  I  see  you,  I  can  go 
into  details,  and  hope  to  get  from  you  some  hints  to  help  me." 


to  his  brother  william. 

"  Cambridge,  January  1,  1831. 
"  You  ask  about  my  routine  of  duties,  to  which  I  reply  thus. 
Friday  evening,  the  two  upper  classes  in  rotation  preach  extem- 
pore. I  follow  the  preaching  with  remarks,  more  or  less  particu- 
lar, which  I  enter  in  a  book  on  reaching  home,  and  thus  lay  up  a 
series  of  papers  on  preaching,  &:c.,of  which  I  may  perhaps  make 
use  at  some  future  time.  Saturday  and  Sunday  evening,  the 
same  classes  preach  before  the  whole  Faculty;  and,  if  I  say 
anything  worth  the  while,  I  record  it.  Then,  once  a  Aveek,  I 
hold  an  exercise  with  the  same  classes,  (Tuesday  and  Wed- 
nesday,) on  the  art  of  making  sermons.  I  assign  certain 
topics  and  questions,  and  point  out  authors  to  be  read ;  and 
the  hour  is  passed  partly  in  conversation,  and  partly  in  lectur- 
ing.    I  think  it  most  useful  to  make  them  think  and  talk  as 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,  JR.  105 

much  as  possible,  because  they  thus  become  much  more  inter- 
ested and  excited  on  the  subjects,  and  enter  into  them  more 
fully,  than  if  I  merely  read  or  spoke  my  own  opinions.  I  have 
had  great  success  in  leading  them  to  talk,  and  it  is  a  very 
interesting  exercise. 

"  In  a  similar  manner,  I  spend  an  hour  with  them  on  the 
art  of  reading  and  speaking, — drilling  and  practising;  and, 
after  the  extemporaneous  preaching  on  Friday  evening,  we 
often  stop  and  have  declamations.  With  the  Senior  Class  the 
lecture  on  Sermonizing  will  soon  be  exchanged  for  an  exercise 
on  Pastoral  duties.  I  ought  to  have  stated,  that  they  bring  to 
me  plans  and  skeletons,  once  a  fortnight,  on  given  subjects, 
which  I  criticize ;  and  I  sometimes  require  them  to  ^vrite  out 
at  length  one  of  the  heads,  for  example,  the  Exordium  or  the 
Conclusion.  Also,  once  a  term  at  least,  they  are  to  bring  up 
a  complete  sermon,  besides  those  which  they  preach  in  turn. 

"  With  the  Junior  Class,  I  have  no  exercises  at  present,  and 
shall  not  have,  except  perhaps  in  reading,  during  the  last  term. 
I  have,  however,  become  acquainted  with  them,  by  inviting 
them  to  tea,  three  or  four  at  a  time,  on  Wednesday  evening, 
when  I  have  an  opportunity  of  learning  something  of  their 
characters,  and  giving  them  advice.  This  I  find  very  pleasant, 
and,  I  hope,  useful.  Also,  the  preacher  of  Friday,  Saturday, 
and  Sunday  evening  breakfasts  with  me  the  next  morning,  and 
we  go  over  together  very  critically  his  performance,  both  as  to 
matter  and  manner ;  and,  if  the  sermon  be  faulty  in  any  special 
particular,  he  is  told  how  to  mend  it,  and  required  to  do  so, 
and  then  to  show  it  to  me. 

"  This  is  about  the  whole ;  not  a  very  laborious,  but  a  suf- 
ficiently constant  employment,  and  thus  far  pleasant,  as  I  am 
met  by  the  best  dispositions  on  the  part  of  the  young  men  ;  and, 
though  it  is  too  soon  to  judge  whether  I  am  actually  exerting  a 
good  influence  or  any  influence  at  all,  yet  I  have  good  and 
encouraging  hopes.  If  anything  would  damp  my  hopes  and 
destroy  my  courage,  it  would  be  the  expressions,  which  come 


106  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

to  me  from  many,  very  like  those  in  3'our  last  letter,  seeming 
to  imply  an  expectation  that  I  must  effect  a  great  and  percep- 
tible improvement  at  once.  It  is  fearful  to  think  that  such  a 
task  is  expected  of  me ;  and  all  that  I  can  do  is  to  do  my  duty 
as  well  as  possible,  and  leave  the  consequences  to  the  candid 
and  considerate  judgment  of  men.  I  hope  they  will  judge 
kindly.  I  see  that  much  is  to  be  done ;  that  a  change  ought 
to  take  place.  I  think  I  know  what  it  is.  But  is  it  possible 
for  me  to  bring  it  about  speedily  ?  Is  it  reasonable  to  expect 
it  of  me  ?  And,  if  I  should  fail,  ought  I  to  be  censured  ?  Do 
not  be  too  sanguine,  and  do  not  allow  others  to  be  so.  It  is, 
you  know,  far  easier  to  know  what  is  to  be  done,  than  to  have 
the  wisdom  and  skill  which  shall  effect  it ;  and,  when  we  effect 
so  little  by  preaching  to  men  and  women,  how  can  we  expect 
to  do  great  things  with  young  men  ? " 

TO    MR.    ALLEN. 

"  Cambridge,  March  7,  1S31. 
"I  am  pretty  well,  but  quite  lazy.  I  seem  to  have  done 
nothing  this  winter,  and  yet  perhaps  have  done  as  much  as  I 
ought.  My  absolute  duties  are  not  laborious,  and  I  think  I 
have  had  some  success.  I  think  some  serious  impressions 
have  been  made ;  I  am  pleased  with  the  disposition  to  give 
more  attention  to  the  more  serious  views  of  character  and  duty. 
I  have  turned  the  exercise  of  extempore  preaching  into  an 
extempore  discussion,  which  acts  much  like  a  conference  meet- 
ing. I  propose  a  subject,  of  a  practical  character  rather  than 
speculative ;  four  speak  upon  it  from  the  pulpit  in  order ;  then 
all  are  at  liberty  to  speak  from  their  places.  It  proves  inter- 
esting, and  I  flatter  myself  it  tends  to  promote  personal  religion. 
Our  subjects  have  been,  '  What  is  Religion,'  '  Power  of  Con- 
science,' '  Method  of  Cultivating  Conscience,'  '  The  Inferences 
to  be  drawn  from  the  Parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son ;'  and  the 
next  time  will  be,  '  The  Example  of  Jesus,  as  a  Preacher  of 
Retribution.'     This  is  at  present  my  favorite  exercise." 


JR.  107 

TO    THE    REV.  DR.  CARPENTER. 

"  Cambridge,  November  12,  1S31. 

"  Mr.  Shute  will  tell  you,  that  Mrs.  Ware  and  myself  are 
in  perfectly  good  health,  and  have  just  removed  into  a  house 
which  we  have  been  building,  and  from  which  we  hope  not  to 
be  removed  until  we  go  to  our  final  home.  It  is  within  a  few 
rods  of  our  Divinity  Hall,  which  renders  my  intercourse  with, 
our  young  men  easy  and  constant.  You  can  readily  judge 
how  interesting  a  work  it  is,  that  engages  me,  and  perhaps 
may  understand,  too,  how  difficult  it  is  to  satisfy  one's  self  in 
the  performance.  Our  number  this  year  is  thirty-three; 
among  them  are  individuals  of  rare  promise.  The  spirit 
which  reigns  among  them  is  excellent, — all  that  it  should  be. 
You  would  be  delighted  to  witness  their  industry,  seriousness, 
and  ardent  interest  in  the  labors  of  their  profession.  It  is  par- 
ticularly gratifying,  I  think,  to  witness  so  little  of  the  spirit  of 
sectarianism.  They  seem  to  be  anxious  for  Christianity  as  a 
religion  of  benevolence  and  power,  not  of  a  party,  and  cherish 
an  enlargement  and  generosity  of  view,  which  it  would  do 
your  heart  good  to  observe. 

"  They  have  recently  formed  among  themselves  a  Philan- 
thropic Society,  of  which  all,  I  believe,  are  members,  whose 
object  it  is  to  collect  information  respecting  the  various  benevo- 
lent projects  of  the  day,  to  excite  an  interest  in  their  own 
minds  respecting  them,  and  to  prepare  themselves  to  act 
understandingly,  when  they  shall  go  out  into  the  world.  This 
society  meets  once  a  month,  when  a  report  of  some  committee 
on  a  specified  subject  is  read,  and  a  discussion  takes  place. 
The  subjects  already  taken  up  are.  Prison  Discipline,  the 
Reformation  of  Juvenile  Criminals,  Foreign  Missions,  the 
Wants  of  Seamen,  and  the  Amelioration  of  the  Condition  of 
the  Blacks.  A  good  deal  of  excellent  fruit  is  already  grow- 
ing on  this  young  stem.  Several  of  the  young  men,  from 
three  to  six,  walk  to  the  next  town  every  Sunday,  to  give 


108  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

religious  instruction  to  the  prisoners  at  the  State  penitentiar}^ 
They  are  engaging,  also,  in  a  similar  enterprise  in  the  County- 
jail.  So  that  we  hope  they  are  training  up  to  be  active  and 
benevolent,  as  well  as  learned,  ministers  of  Christ.  This  is  a 
delightful  prospect.  There  is,  also,  a  good  deal  that  is  cheer- 
ing in  the  prospects  of  religion  in  the  community,  notwith- 
standing the  events  which  accompany  the  storm  of  fanaticism 
that  is  now  driving  over  our  land.  Our  own  societies  are 
flourishing;  there  is  less  of  a  sectarian  spirit  than  formerly 
among  them,  and  an  increasing  desire  for  plain  and  serious 
instruction  on  personal  religion.  1  have  been  led  to  observe 
this  in  the  eagerness,  with  which  a  little  work  of  mine  on  the 
Christian  Character  has  been  sought  for,  and  other  similar 
works  are  multiplying  and  circulating. 

"  Our  affairs  here  are  prosperous,  and  we 

are  particularly  gratified  with  the  signs  we  witness  of  increas- 
ing regard  to  the  Christian  religion  as  a  practical  and  spiritual 
system.  Works  of  a  serious  and  devotional  character  are 
earnestly  sought  for  by  our  people ;  and  the  issue  of  our  long 
controversy  seems  to  have  been  to  revive  and  quicken,  rather 
than  destroy,  the  love  of  earnest  and  deep  feeling  in  the  pur- 
suit of  personal  religion.  I  am  sure  you  will  rejoice  with  us 
in  this.  It  is  a  proof,  I  hope,  that  our  controversy  has  been 
conducted  wisely,  and  that  we  have  a  right  to  increased  con- 
fidence in  the  worth  and  truth  of  our  views." 

The  following  letters,  also  to  Dr.  Carpenter,  although 
written  some  time  after^vard,  will  be  read  with  more 
interest  here,  as  giving  his  own  accomit  of  the  nature 
and  extent  of  his  occupations,  and  the  manner  in  which 
his  department  was  conducted. 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  109 

to  the  rev.  dr.  carpenter. 

"  Cambridge,  August  20,  1833. 

"  My  duties  in  the  School,  in  which  you  express  so  much 
interest,  grow  more  and  more  delightful  to  me.  The  last  term 
was  one  of  peculiar  gratification.  We  have  just  dismissed  a 
class  of  twelve,  who  have  gone  out  to  their  work  in  the  finest 
spirit,  and  with  preparation  of  mind  and  heart  which  cannot 
fail  to  fit  them  for  useful  action.  Besides  the  regular  instruc- 
tion of  the  School,  they  have  formed  among  themselves  a  Phil- 
anthropic Society,  whose  object  it  is  to  inform  them  respecting 
the  various  benevolent  projects  of  the  day,  to  excite  an  interest 
in  these,  and  to  prepare  them  to  act  in  relation  to  them.  Their 
meetings  have  been  highly  valuable,  and  have  tended  to  foster 
a  practical  turn,  which  is  greatly  to  be  praised.  We  needed 
something  of  the  sort,  to  qualify  the  speculative  and  scholastic 
character  which  is  so  inevitably  the  consequence  of  seven 
years  spent  within  the  walls  of  a  university. 

"  You  have  expressed  a  wish  to  know  something  of  the 
routine  of  my  office.  I  will  try  to  give  you  some  brief  notion. 
1.  At  the  opening  of  each  term  I  deliver  a  written  lecture  to 
all  the  classes,  on  some  topic  of  personal  and  professional  char- 
acter :  e.  g.  Importance  of  Piety  in  a  Minister,—  The  Spirit 
of  the  Profession,  — Clerical  Prudence,  &c.  This  is  the  only 
course  of  written  instruction,  except  that  I  have  begun  a  pretty 
extensive  course  of  lectures  on  Preaching,  to  be  delivered  year 
after  year  during  the  summer  term.  Otherwise  my  exercises 
are  carried  on  in  free  conversation.  I  assign  topics,  direct 
them  what  books  to  consult,  and  then  w^e  talk  together  about 
it.  I  fancy  this  method  more  likely  to  excite  their  own 
thoughts,  and  interest  them  deeply,  and  secure  lasting  impres- 
sions, than  if  I  simply  told  them  what  I  think  myself.  Besides 
that,  I  thus  learn  their  difficulties,  and  can  apply  myself  more 
certainly  to  their  state  of  mind.  Hence  I  find,  that  the  same 
subjects  require  to  be  differently  treated  before  different  classes, 

VOL.  n.  10 


110  LIFE   OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

which  could  not  be  if  I  only  rehearsed  a  set  of  wi'itten  lectures. 
Then,  2.  The  courses  of  instruction  treated  in  this  way  are  as 
follows  :  In  the  second  year,  the  Art  of  Composition,  including, 
first,  the  finding  of  thoughts,  or  the  art  of  discussion  ;  secondly, 
arrangement;  and,  thirdly,  style.  This  is  followed  by  a 
course  on  the  Coinpositioii  of  Sermons,  accompanied  by  criti- 
cisms and  remarks,  and  by  exercises  of  the  students  in  draw- 
ing up  plans  and  arranging  skeletons.  A  course  on  Prayer 
and  Public  Devotions,  designed  to  guide  them  to  the  profitable 
and  true  manner  of  conducting  that  exercise.  A  course  on 
Pastoral  Duty,  embracing  the  whole  of  a  minister's  private 
relations  to  his  flock,  the  principles  on  which  he  should  con- 
duct himself  to  all  classes,  and  the  various  efforts  to  be  made 
for  their  general  and  individual  religious  improvement. 
These  several  courses  occupy  two  years,  one  afternoon  each 
week.  3.  Instruction  in  Elocution.  Once  a  week  we  spend 
one  evening  in  declamation,  and  generally  close  it  with  re- 
marks, and  criticize  the  speaking  of  individuals  in  private. 
Those  who  most  need  instruction,  read  to  me  privately.  4. 
There  are  two  other  exercises.  On  Sunday  evening,  one  of 
the  Senior  Class  preaches.  The  members  of  the  Faculty 
remark  on  his  performance.  I  take  his  sermon  home  and 
examine  it ;  he  breakfasts  with  me  Monday  morning,  and  I 
criticize  it  and  advise  him.  On  Friday  evening,  I  hold  an 
exercise  to  promote  'Extemporaneous  SpeaJiing.  Four  per- 
sons in  order,  from  the  two  older  classes,  speak  on  some  ques- 
tion previously  assigned,  after  which  any  one  may  rise  and 
speak.  This  proves  a  very  delightful  and  useful  exercise. 
5.  On  Saturday  evening,  I  hold  a  meeting,  at  which  those 
who  please  attend,  for  purposes  of  devotion,  and  conversation 
on  topics  of  personal  religion.  This  has  been  held  rather 
irregularly,  but  has  been  very  useful,  and  will  not  hereafter  be 
irregular.  6.  Besides  this,  during  part  of  the  second  year, 
the  class  reads  to  me  pieces  of  their  own  writing,  for  purposes 


JR.  Ill 

of  practice  in  writing  and  speaking;  and,  during  the  last  year, 
sermons  are  written  and  brought  to  me  for  criticism. 

"  So  much  for  a  bird's-eye  view  of  what  belongs  to  me  in 
the  theological  department.  Besides  this,  I  attend  prayers  at 
the  University  chapel  every  morning  during  the  year,  my 
father  attending  in  the  afternoon ;  and  I  preach  in  the  said 
chapel  every  Sunday  afternoon,  for  half  the  year  ;  Mr.  Palfrey 
preaching  the  other  half-year,  and  my  father  always  preaching 
in  the  morning. 

"  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  any  hints  on  these 
several  subjects,  and  on  the  best  manner  of  conducting  instruc- 
tion. Your  experience  in  the  art  of  teaching,  and  your  interest 
in  these  subjects,  must  enable  you  to  say  what  would  essen- 
tially aid  me." 

to  the  same. 

"  Cambridge,  July  28,  1834. 
"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  I  have,  within  a  few  days,  received  by  Dr.  Tuckerman 
your  little  letter  of  June  5th.  You  ask  me  to  tell  you  further 
of  '  the  developement,  success,  and  failure  of  my  plans  '  I  can 
say  nothing  yet  very  definitely  beyond  the  fact,  that  I  feel 
encouraged.  In  general,  I  think  that  I  have  met  with  success, 
and  that  failure  has  taken  place  only  in  minor  points ;  and 
then,  I  suspect,  it  may  be  attributed  to  my  own  negligence. 
We  have  just  dismissed  the  first  class,  which  began  its  course 
after  Mr.  Palfrey  and  I  came  here  ;  and  we  have  the  satisfac- 
tion of  believing,  that  the  friends  of  the  institution  are  content 
with  what  has  been  done.  The  day  on  which  the  class  took 
leave  of  us,  was  one  of  most  deep  and  gratifying  feeling. 
How  you  would  have  enjoyed  the  serious,  ardent,  elevated, 
spiritual  tone  of  their  dissertations,  and  felt  to  your  heart's  core 
the  expression  of  their  sweet  singing.  This  was  in  the  fore- 
noon. Then,  in  the  afternoon,  their  Fhilanthropic  Society 
held  its  anniversary,  and  was  addressed  by  several  of  the  min- 


112  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

isters,  at  their  request.  It  \Yas  a  most  rich  occasion.  The 
topics  of  remark  were, — Hoio  shall  be  obtained  a  supply  of 
devotional  ivorks?—^T\di^  JVhat  is  the  true  character  of  preack- 
ing  for  the  times  ?  The  latter  brought  out  a  great  deal  of 
powerful  and  moving  remark.  Mr.  Walker,  of  Charlestown, 
especially,  spoke  from  the  depths  of  a  strong  and  thrilling  emo- 
tion, which  moved  us  all,  as  we  seldom  are  moved.  Not  more 
than  two  or  three  times  in  my  life  have  I  witnessed  so  much 
emotion  in  a  speaker  and  his  hearers.  Many  of  the  hearers, 
since  that  day,  are  unable  to  speak  of  it  with  dry  eyes  ; 
indeed,  it  was  a  marked  day,  and  must  give  a  complexion  to 
our  preaching  henceforth.  It  was  an  outpouring  of  the  spirit. 
We  all  came  away  disposed  to  '  thank  God  and  take  courage.' ' 

During  the  fall  and  winter  of  the  year  of  his  settle- 
ment at  Cambridge,  1830-1,  he  was  engaged  in  com- 
pleting, and  preparing  for  publication,  his  tract  on  the 
'•'Formation  of  the  Christian  Character,"  the  work  by 
Avhich  he  has  perhaps  been  most  extensively  known, 
and  probably  most  extensively  useful.  This  he  had  had 
in  contemplation  for  a  long  time.  There  are  some  noti- 
ces of  his  plan  as  far  back  as  1827.  It  was  a  frequent 
subject  of  his  thoughts  and  conversation  during  his  long 
confinement  in  1828;  and  he  seems,  by  keeping  the 
subject  before  him,  and  constantly  revolving  it,  to  have 
filled  himself  with  suitable  thoughts,  and  nearly  com- 
pleted their  arrangement  in  his  mind.  So  intent  was 
he  on  this  object,  and  so  ready  with  his  materials,  that 
he  began  the  composition  of  it  at  an  inn  in  Princeton, 
Massachusetts,  at  the  close  of  the  first  day  of  the  soli- 
tary journey  \vhich  he  made  in  August  and  September, 
1828,  as  I  find  by  an  entry  of  the  date  in  the  original 
manuscript.  He  continued  to  work  upon  it  at  short  in- 
tervals during  the  whole  of  his  absence  :  on  some  days 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  113 

writing  only  a  few  lines,  but  on  one,  accomplishing 
fifteen  pages,  apparently  at  a  single  sitting.  The  last 
entry  was  made  at  Pawtucket,  Monday,  October  6th, 
on  his  way  home  from  Brooklyn,  and  after  he  had  begun 
to  experience  symptoms  of  that  indisposition  which 
laid  him  up  the  whole  of  the  ensuing  winter.  He  had 
then  written  as  far  as  the  third  section  of  the  fourth 
chapter,  concluding  the  subject  of  ''Meditation."  It 
was  at  this  point  laid  aside  for  a  long  time.  During  the 
winter  he  seems. to  have  felt  entirely  incapable  of  any 
serious  and  continued  application.  No  further  attempt 
was  made  to  go  on  with  the  plan  till  the  next  Novem- 
ber, (1829,)  when  he  wrote  a  little  at  Florence,  and 
afterwards,  during  the  winter  and  spring,  at  Naples  and 
Rome,  in  this  way  completing  the  fourth  chapter  before 
his  return  home.  The  concluding  chapter  was  added 
after  he  was  fixed  at  Cambridge,  and  the  whole  was 
revised  carefully  and  published  in  May,  1831. 

This  work  proved  extremely  acceptable  to  the  reli- 
gious community  with  which  he  was  associated,  and 
was  even  received  with  considerable  favor  by  many  of 
other  denominations,  who  had  no  sympathy  with  the 
doctrinal  opinions  of  its  author.  It  obtained,  and  has 
continued  to  have,  a  wide  circulation  in  this  country, 
and  has  gone  through  fifteen  editions  of  a  thousand  cop- 
ies each.  It  was  also  speedily  republished  in  Great 
Britain,  and  has  been  there  also  extensively  circulated. 
He  received  from  many  quarters  very  warm  assurances 
of  the  approbation  of  those  whose  opinion  he  valued, 
and,  what  was  still  more  grateful  to  him,  the  strongest 
evidence  of  the  favorable  influence  which  it  had  exerted 
on  the  religious  character  and  progress  of  many  who 
had  read  it. 

VOL.  n.  10=^ 


114  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

When  absent  in  attendance  on  the  ordination  of  Mr. 
Fox,  at  Newburyport.  he  wrote  thus : 

to  his  wife. 

"  Newburyport,  August  3,  1831. 

"  I  am  surprised  to  see  how  seasonable  my  Uttle  book  has 
been,  how  widely  it  has  been  circulated,  and  how  strongly  peo- 
ple feel  about  it.  They  speak  to  me  of  it  with  tears  in  their 
eyes.  It  seems  just  to  have  met  the  wants  of  the  crisis.  You 
will  sympathize  in  the  pleasure  and  gratitude  I  feel.  Few 
things  have  ever  given  me  so  sincere  and  hearty  pleasure,  as 
the  perception,  that,  in  this  thing,  I  have  actually  done  some- 
thing to  aid  men  in  the.  most  interesting  circumstances  of  their 
life.  I  am  only  astonished,  that  I  do  not  feel  more  humbled 
and  ashamed  at  my  own  miserable  inconsistency,  and  that  I 
can  look  without  compunction  at  the  careless  life  I  lead.  I 
hope  I  am  not  hardened  forever.  But,  however  it  may  fare 
with  myself,  I  do  rejoice  and  feel  thankful,  that  I  am  able  to 
do  something  to  save  others  from  the  fate  to  which  I  am  hurry- 
ing myself.     Is  not  this  strange  ? 

"  I  have  searched  myself  pretty  thoroughly,  and  I  do  truly 
believe,  that  not  a  particle  of  personal  vanity  or  literary  pride 
enters  into  the  gratification  I  feel.  I  am  sure  that  I  look  on  it 
with  a  religious  pleasure  only,  and  that  it  is  too  much  min- 
gled with  the  sense  of  my  abuse  of  powers,  by  which  God  ena- 
bles me  to  do  good,  and  therefore  covimands  me  to  do  good,  to 
allow  any  inferior  satisfaction.  What  obligations  are  mine, 
and  who  does  so  little  in  comparison  with  what  he  ought  to 
do  ?  And  yet  so  I  Hve  on,  and  do  not  do  it.  But  I  ought  not 
to  be  thus  croaking  to  you,  dear  Mary  ;  I  only  meant  to  ask 
your  sympathy  in  my  pleasure,  and  my  pen  has  run  on  with 
my  feelings,  which  had  better  be  kept  to  myself." 

His  healtli  had  regularly  improved  after  he  began  to 
reside  in  Cambridge,  and  in  the  spring  of  1831  was  re- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  115 

markably  good.  In  February  of  this  year  he  preached 
for  the  first  time  for  nearly  three  years,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  single  instance  at  Brooklyn,  in  December, 
1828.  It  was  on  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Em- 
erson, the  wife  of  his  colleague  and  successor  in  the 
ministry.  Notwithstanding  his  improved  health,  how- 
ever, it  was  not  regarded  as  expedient  for  him  yet  to 
resume  his  labors  in  the  pulpit;  and  accordingly  he  did 
not  make  another  attempt  until  the  2d  of  October  of  the 
same  year,  when  he  began  and  persevered  in  his  regu- 
lar course  of  duty  as  one  of  the  preachers  in  the  College 
chapel.  No  particular  evil  to  his  health  was  the  result 
of  his  preaching  in  either  case,  nor,  so  far  as  can  be 
judged,  at  any  subsequent  period ;  and  it  seems  very 
probable,  that  more  influence  in  producing  and  keeping 
up  the  complaints  under  which  he  from  time  to  time  • 
labored,  had  been  attributed  to  his  efibrts  of  this  kind, 
than  was  fairly  due  to  them. 

In  the  spring  of  this  year  he  was  well  enough  and 
strong  enough  to  make  an  excursion  on  foot  to  North- 
borough  and  Worcester,  in  company  with  his  eldest  son, 
then  a  lad  about  fourteen  years  of  age.  In  the  begin- 
ning of  August  he  made  a  still  longer  one,  partly  in  the 
same  way,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Angier,  a  member  of  the 
Divinity  School.  After  attending  an  ordination  at 
Newburyport,  on  the  3d  of  August,  they  made  their 
way  toward  the  White  Mountains  of  New  Hampshire, 
sometimes  on  foot,  and  sometimes  in  the  public  convey- 
ances. 


;:! 


116  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

to  his  wife. 

"  Centre -Harbor,  Lake  Winnipiseogee, 
"  Sunday  Evening,  August  7,  1S31. 
"  My  dear  Mary, 

"  I  vrrote  to  you  from  Newburyport,  and  to  John  from  Do- 
ver, which  place  we  left  on  Saturday  morning ;  and,  having 
walked  three  miles,  took  the  stage,  and  rode  through  a  very 
rough  country,  over  a  rocky  road,  fifty  miles,  and  then  walked 
five  to  this  place,  which  we  reached  just  at  sunset  last  evening. 
The  weather  has  been  cool  every  day,  and  we  have  enjoyed 
it  much.  We  found  here  two  Mr.  Davises,  from  Boston;  one 
of  them  joined  us  this  morning  at  five  o'clock,  in  an  excursion 
to  the  Red  Mountain,  a  height  which  overlooks  all  the  coun- 
try,— not  very  difficult  to  ascend, — and  giving  a  fine  view  of  a 
wild,  mountainous  region,  and  the  full  quality  of  the  Winni- 
piseogee  Lake,  which  is  a  very  ugly  lake,  be  it  said  with  sub- 
mission. To  my  mind  it  looks  just  like  a  great  meadow  over- 
flowed with  water,  with  a  few  tufts  of  grass  sticking  out  here 
and  there.  The  shores  are  generally  barren.  We  were  absent 
five  hours,  and  had  a  fine  appetite  for  breakfast  at  half  past  ten 
o'clock.     I  never  felt  better. 

"  There  is  no  place  of  worship  here,  there  being  but  a  few 
houses;  so  we  have  been  obliged  to  keep  quiet.  The  old 
woman  inquired  if  we  didn't  know  her  grand-daughter  in 
Boston.  I  should  think  Red  Hill  about  the  height  of  Mount 
Holyoke,  and  I  have  not  felt  so  finely,  so  bright  and  ethereal, 
since  the  day  I  went  over  the  Swiss  mountain  with  you, — the 
Brunig.  On  the  top,  Mr.  Davis  pulled  out  Milton  from  his 
pocket,  and  we  took  off" our  hats,  and  read  his  grand  hymn, — 
'  These  are  thy  glorious  ivorks.^  I  would  hardly  have  believed 
it  could  be  so  applicable  to  our  situation  there.  Two  Cam- 
bridge scholars,  pedestrians,  have  just  arrived.  The  old  man 
who  keeps  this  house  is  quite  a  man  ;  and  his  two  daughters 
are  genteel,  well  educated  girls,  who  have  been  singing  very 
sweetly  with  Angier  and  me. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  117 

''  Mo7iday.  —  G\onous  day.  Nine  miles  to  Sandwich  to 
breakfast,  by  a  route  among  the  hills,  very  like  some  pretty 
spots  in  Switzerland.  The  Sandwich  mountains  on  our  right, 
the  Ossipee  on  our  left,— not  a  rich  or  much  cultivated  valley. 
Nine  miles  further,  to  a  house  in  the  corner  of  Ossipee,  where 
we  took  a  wagon  thirteen  miles  to  Conway,  principally  through 
a  pine  wood,— beside  six  miles  of  pond  through  Eaton,  in  leav- 
ing which  we  had  a  noble  mountainous  prospect. 

"  If  pleasant,  we  shall  reach  the  mountains  to-morrow,  and 
we  hope  to  be  at  Concord  next  Sunday,  intending  to  pass 
home  by  the  banks  of  the  Merrimack.  In  this  case  we  shall 
reach  home  by  the  middle  of  next  week.  I  should  be  sorry  to 
be  longer  absent.  I  think  that  I  have  something  to  call  me 
to  Cambridge,  and  at  that  time  only  two  weeks  of  vacation 
will  remain. 

"  I  see,  in  looking  back,  that  I  have  omitted  an  essential  item 
in  the  history  of  Sunday,  — viz.  :  that  we  went  to  meeting  at 
five  o'clock,  where  Mr.  Angier  and  I  did  all  the  singing,  to  the 
astonishment  of  the  natives  ;  and  in  the  evening  we  sung  a 
good  deal  with  our  host's  daughters." 

During  this  excursion,  as  on  others,  he  was  not  satis- 
fied to  pass,  without  occupation,  those  odd  moments, 
which  usually  hang  so  heavily  on  the  hands  of  travel- 
lers at  public  houses  in  the  intervals  of  motion.  He 
was  always  provided  with  means  for  employing  such 
intervals  profitably.  On  this  occasion  he  busied  him- 
self in  composing  a  poetic  description  of  the  incidents  of 
the  tour,  and  of  the  emotions  excited  by  the  wild  and 
sublime  scenery  in  the  midst  of  wdiich  he  was  travel- 
ling. 

He  had  engaged  to  preach  on  his  return  at  Concord, 
N.  H.,  on  Sunday,  August  14th.  They  had  completed 
their  tour  through  the  Notch  of  the  White  Mountains, 


118  LIFE   OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 


had  visited  the  Mountains  at  Franconia,  and  passed 
through  Plymouth  on  their  way  homeward,  when,  after 
walking  on  Thursday  morning  for  some  distance,  they 
obtained  conveyance  in  an  open  wagon  to  Boscawen. 
Unfortunately,  they  had  become  heated  by  their  pre- 
vious exercise,  and  my  brother  became  quite  chilled  by 
exposure  to  so  free  a  current  of  air  whilst  in  this  excited 
state.  Soon  after  reaching  Boscawen,  he  became  se- 
verely ill. 

The  next  day  he  was  able  to  reach  Concord,  but 
could  get  no  further,  and  was  there  speedily  joined  by 
his  wife.  She  found  him  laboring  under  a  high  degree 
of  fever,  with  great  exhaustion.  It  was  a  kind  of  attack 
from  which  he  had  frequently  suffered  before,  but  the 
present  was  more  than  usually  severe.  He  had  himself 
regarded  his  sickness  as  of  a  very  unfavorable  charac- 
ter, and  entertained  serious  anticipations  of  its  results, 
as  appears  from  letters  written  to  his  wife  and  children. 
Contrary  to  these  expectations,  howcA^er,  his  symptoms 
yielded  readily,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  days  he  was 
able  to  be  conveyed  home.  But,  though  he  threw  oft' 
thus  speedily  the  acute  spnptoms  of  his  disease,  his 
system  did  not  rally  from  the  subsequent  effects  of  it  so 
readily  as  in  former  years.  He  was  left  for  some  weeks 
in  a  very  depressed  and  nervous  state,  languid  and 
prostrated,  and  totally  incapable  of  any  exertion.  He 
left  home,  indeed,  in  the  latter  part  of  August,  from  ina- 
bility to  bear  the  excitement  and  bustle  of  Commence- 
ment week.  Still  he  was  able  to  resume  his  regular 
duties  at  the  beginning  of  the  term  in  September,  and, 
as  has  been  already  said,  began  the  exercise  of  his  office 
as  one  of  the  college  preachers,  in  October. 

I  am  happy  to   have  it  in   my  power  to   add   an 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  119 

account  of  this  expedition,  with  which  I  have  been 
favored  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Angier,  his  -friend  and  com- 
panion. 

"Washington,  November  10,  1S45. 
"  My  DEAR  Sir, 

"  I  have  with  me  a  copy  of  the  '  Pedestrian  Journey,'  com- 
posed by  your  brother,  on  our  Avalk  to  the  White  Mountains, 
"in  the  summer  of  1S31.  I  have  taken  a  melancholy  pleasure 
in  reading  over,  again  and  again,  the  fragments  of  which  it  is 
composed,  and  which  so  vividly  recall  scenes  and  incidents  to 
which  they  relate.  I  see  him  now,  equipped,  as  he  describes 
himself  at  the  opening  of  the  journey, 

'  Like  Caesar  for  his  conquest  ;•— my  hope 
Before  me,  anxious  cares  thrown  by,— my  thought 
Free  to  expatiate  undisturbed,  and  take 
Its  tone,— cheerful  or  grave,— devout  or  gay.' 

"  And  well  do  I  remember,  how  entirely,  though  often  evi- 
dently suffering,  he  redeemed,  on  his  part,  the  pledge  contained 
in  these  lines  : 

'  Now  then,  my  one  companion,  go  we  forth, 
Pledged  to  be  cheerful  alway,  and  content, — 
To  find  all  pleasant,  or  to  make  it  so  ; 
Without  restraint,  but  such  as  kindness  claims  ; — 
If  silent,  unsuspected,  unreproached 
For  sullenness  of  mood,  and  free  to  do, 
As  ready  to  allow.' 


And, 


So,  up  the  hill-side,  down  the  valley,  we 
Nearer  and  nearer  to  the  lake  draw  nigh, 
And  cast  our  knapsacks  down  in  Alton's  bay. 
Hail,  lake  !  with  form  as  rugged  as  thy  name, 
Plail,  Winnipiseogee  !' 


120  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

"  And  here  were  the  scene  and  occasion  of  one  of  these 
fragments,  '  Red  Hill,'  which,  together  with  those,  at  least, 
entitled  *  The  Avalanche,'  *  Mount  Washington,'  and  '  The 
Echo,'  I  hope  to  see  preserved  in  the  memoir  you  are  about 
publishing.  It  Vv^as  after  sunset  on  Saturday  evening,  when 
we  arrived  at  Centre  Harbor.  Sunda}^  morning,  by  sunrise, 
there  being  no  religious  service  where  we  were,  we  set  out, 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Thomas  K.  Davis,  of  Boston,  on  a  walk 
to  the  top  of  Red  Hill.  After  we  had  spent  some  time  in  gaz- 
ing upon  the  extensive  and  beautiful  scenes  before  us,  Mr. 
Davis  took  from  his  pocket  a  copy  of  '  Paradise  Lost,'  and, 
opening  at  Adam's  Morning  Hymn,  handed  it  to  Mr.  Ware, 
with  the  request  that  he  would  read  it.  '  With  the  words,' 
breathed  forth  in  those  sweet,  low,  and  earnest  tones,  which 
had  so  often  penetrated  them  before,  I  know  '  our  hearts  rose 
up,'  as  he  went  on,  the  tones  of  his  voice  becoming  more  deep 
and  fervent,  as  he  felt  the  inspiration  of  the  poet.  The  spir- 
itualization  of  the  scene,  all  the  hallowed  associations  of  the 
hour,  conspired  to  make  us  feel  that,  though  there  was  no  pre- 
face of  '  Let  us  praise  God,'  or,  '  pray,'  yet  this  was  something 
more  than  a  gratification  of  taste,— it  ivas  an  act  of  ivorship, 
as  sincere,  as  keart-felt,  as  any  we  ever  engaged  in.  We 
instinctively  uncovered,  and  '  reverently  bowed  our  heads  and 
stood.'  Well  does  he  say,  '  Such  Sabbath  is  not  lost.'  It  was 
one  of  the  happiest,  one  of  the  best  days  of  my  life,— most 
enjoyed  when  present,  most  pleasantly  remembered  when  past, 
— never  to  be  forgotten,  always  to  be  remembered  with  grati- 
tude. 

"  As  my  pen  runs  on,  many  scenes  and  incidents  and  con- 
versations arise  to  my  remembrance,  most  pleasing  in  the  retro- 
spect, and  illustrative,  often,  of  those  characteristic  qualities, 
for  which  Mr.  Ware's  memory  is  so  affectionately  and  rever- 
ently cherished.  But  I  must  draw  this  letter  to  a  close  ;  not, 
however,  till  I  have  recalled,  with  mingled  feelings  of  regret 
and   pleasure,   the  last   two  days  of  our   pleasant  journey. 


121 

About  sunset,  Friday  evening,  we  arrived  at  a  little  tavern  in 
the  town  of  Peeling,  on  the  banks  of  one  of  the  branches  of 
the  Merrimack.  It  was  a  lovely  close  of  a  most  beautiful  and 
happy  day.  We  made  our  ablutions  at  a  trough  in  front  of 
the  house,  and  soon  after  supper,  being  somewhat  fatigued,  I 
retired  to  rest, — the  more  willingly  as  we  were  to  rise  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning  to  ride  the  next  day  to  Concord,  it  being 
Mr.  Ware's  earnest  desire  to  spend  the  Sabbath  there,  and 
give  Mr.  Thomas  a  labor  of  love.  But  your  brother  was  less 
prudent,  or  less  self-indulgent,  and  more  inspired  with  the 
scenery  we  had  beheld,  than  I.  He  sat  up  writing  till  twelve 
o'clock !  though  he  must  rise  at  three.  The  movement  he 
made  in  the  room,  on  retiring,  awoke  me ;  and,  at  my  request, 
he  read  me  what  he  had  been  writing.  He  then  folded  it  up, 
and,  from  that  night,  I  think,  it  was  never  opened  again  till  at 
least  five  or  six  years  afterwards.  We  got  a  man  to  drive  us 
in  an  open  wagon,  in  the  morning,  as  far  as  Plymouth,  where 
we  were  to  take  the  stage  to  Concord.  The  morning  was  cool, 
— a  dense  fog  on  the  banks  of  the  river.  Your  brother  was 
chilled  through.  Then  in  the  middle  of  the  day  it  was  very  hot 
and  dusty;  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  with  previous  want 
of  sleep,  prevailed  against  the  little  strength  he  had,  and  by  the 
time  we  reached  Boscawen  he  was  too  ill  to  proceed.  Here 
I  stayed  with  him  three  or  four  days ;  but,  there  being  no 
prospect  of  his  getting  well  enough  to  go  home  as  soon  as  it 
was  necessar}^  for  me  to  go,  I  left  him  and  brought  the  intelli- 
gence of  his  illness  to  his  family  and  friends  in  Cambridge." 

The  following  are  some  of  those  portions  of  the  poet- 
ical Journal  of  this  tour,  which  are  referred  to  in  this 
letter.  They  received  little  subsequent  correction  or 
polish,  but  retain  nearly  the  form  which  was  given  to 
them  at  the  time. 

VOL.  11.  11 


122  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 


"  Then  reverently  we  bared  our  heads,  and  stood ; 
And  from  that  holy  bard,  -whose  sightless  eye 
Beheld  the  wonders  of  the  Invisible, 
We  raised  the  hymn  so  worthy  Paradise, 
In  its  pure  early  worship.     With  the  words, 
I  trust  our  hearts  rose  up  ;  the  morning  wind 
Bore  them,  like  incense,  upward,  and  there  seemed 
A  soul  of  deep  devotion  breathed  abroad 
On  all  the  things  we  saw  ;  they  heard  the  call, 
The  eloquent  call,  of  ^Milton  and  of  God, 
And  uttered  praise.     The  sun  and  clouds  in  heaven 
Heard,  as  they  rose  above  us,  and  replied  ; 
The  lake  responded  with  her  thousand  isles ; 
The  mountains  that  encompassed  us  around, 
Near  and  more  distant,  seemed  to  bow  assent ; 
The  birds  joined  harmony,  the  lowing  kine, 
The  waving  trees,  the  lowly  herb  beneath 
Our  feet,  with  burden  of  rich  fruit,  and  last 
The  scattered  hamlets,  whose  ascending  smokes 
Showed  human  life  awaking  to  the  day  ;  — 
All  seemed  to  hear  and  join  the  act  of  praise. 
So  to  our  hearts  it  seemed,  so  full,  so  warm, 
So  loud,  the  burst  of  holy  praise,  rung  forth 
In  words  that  reach  and  rouse  the  inmost  soul 
Of  Nature,  as  of  man,— the  general  soul 
That  fills  and  vivifies  whate'er  exists. 

"  'Tis  well  to  worship  where  the  pomp  of  man 
Intrudes  not.     So  infirm  are  we,  so  bound 
In  chains  of  sense,  that  crowded  chapels,  throngs 
Of  dressed  adorers,  bursts  of  choral  song. 
The  formal,  eloquent  routine  of  praise. 
Sometimes  excite,  sometimes  distract,  confound, 
Or  dissipate  the  soul. 
'T  is  well  to  know  that  piety 
Draws  its  best  nutriment  from  solitude, 
Withdrawn  from  man,  in  secret  intercourse 


123 

With  man's  Creator  ;  on  the  mountain  top, 
Beside  the  waterfall,  within  the  dark 
And  silent  forest,  on  the  midnight  bed, 
Within  the  chambers  of  the  secret  mind, 
Where  no  eye  pierces,  no  ear  listens,  save 
That  of  the  indwelling  spirit,  which  pervades, 
And  moves,  and  blesses  all.     Then  worship  grows 
A  holy,  heavenly  thing  ;  the  unfettered  soul. 
Emancipate  from  earth,  no  more  disturbed 
With  others'  thoughts,  nor  bound  to  tread 
The  path  by  others  signified,  springs  free. 
Exalted,  spiritualized,  and  carries  back 
To  earth  and  life  a  fragrance  and  a  strength, 
That  earth  gives  not,  and  that  prepares  for  heaven. 

"  Such  Sabbath  is  not  lost ;  and,  from  the  mount 
When  we  descended,  with  the  little  flock 
That  gathers  in  a  humble  upper  room, 
Like  that  perchance  wherein  Paul  preached,  we  too. 
Were  found.     A  touching  sight,  thus  far  from  home, 
Amid  the  wild  hills,  to  behold  a  few. 
Summoned  at  call  of  Him  who  rales  the  earth 
As  king,  and  numbers  millions  for  his  own. 
In  every  age  and  nation,  bending  down 
In  prayer,  and  listening  to  the  word  of  life  ;■— 
A  fragment  of  the  universal  church  ; 
Pondering  upon  the  thoughts  which  make  the  joy 
Of  spirits  in  heaven,  and  urged  to  find,  like  them. 
Their  happiness  in  glorifying  God. 
How  truly  came  from  Heaven  a  messenger 
Like  this,— how  surely  leads  to  Heaven." 

"  THE    WILLEY    HOUSE.* 

"  Here  pause  upon  this  ruin  ;  what  a  tale 
Of  grandeur  and  of  woe  is  written  here  ! 

*  The  particulars  of  tlie  event  referred  to  in  these  lines  are  fresh  in  the 
memory  of  those  living  at  the  time  of  its  occurrence  ;  but  many  readers  of  the 
present  generation  may  be  ignorant  of  them.    The  "  Willey  House,"  so  called 


124  LIFE    OF    HENKY    WARE,    JR. 

He,  whom  we  think  not  of,  because  his  power 

Leads  all  things  gently  with  the  cords  of  love, 

Doth  sometimes  teach  us  with  a  startling  blow, 

That  wakes  our  senses  to  his  majesty. 

He  touched  the  trembling  mountain  and  it  fell, — 

Fell,  with  its  burden  of  rent  rocks  and  trees 

Of  giant  growth,  a  fearful  avalanche, — 

Fell,  amid  storm  and  tempest,  while  the  clouds 

Dropped  down  in  floods,  and  angry  lightnings  flashed, 

And  thunders  echoing  rolled.     It  seemed  as  God 

Descended  in  his  terrors,  as  of  old 

On  Sinai,  wrapt  in  darkness,  clouds,  and  storm. 

The  mountain  felt  him  near. 

And  trembled  from  its  base  ;  the  swelling  streams, 

Each  with  its  own  commission,  carried  forth 

The  message  of  destruction,  bidding  man 

Tremble,  adore,  and  think  upon  his  God. 

"  Behold  this  house  ;  thus  near  the  horror  came, 
A  few  short  feet,  and  stayed,  and  left  it  safe. 
Oh,  had  its  panic-stricken  tenants  stayed, 
They  had  been  safe  ;  but  in  their  fear  they  fled, — 
Fled  from  their  shelter  to  the  very  death 

from  the  name  of  the  unfortunate  familj'  who  perished  there,  is  situated  in  the 
Notch  road  of  the  White  Mountains  of  New  Hampshire,  several  miles  from 
any  other  habitation.  In  the  autumn  of  1S2G,  this  family  resided  there,  and 
had  had  reason  to  apprehend,  from  certain  signs,  that  a  slide  of  earth  was 
likely  to  take  place,  from  the  mountain  in  the  rear  of  their  habitation.  They 
had  accordingly  provided  a  camp,  in  a  spot,  as  they  fatally  fancied,  of  greater 
security,  to  which  they  might  retreat,  should  the  danger  seem  to  threaten  them 
more  imminently.  The  events  of  the  night  are  described  in  the  above  extract. 
A  fearful  mass,  of  rocks,  earth,  and  uprooted  trees,  descended  from  the  mountain 
in  the  direction  of  the  house,  but,  instead  of  overwhelming  it,  divided  into  two 
streams,  which,  passing  on  each  side,  united  again  at  some  distance  in  its  front. 
The  house  was  found  the  next  morning  just  as  it  had  been  hastily  left  by  its 
terrified  inhabitants,  and  a  flock  of  sheep,  unharmed,  Avere  quietly  feeding  on 
the  green  liefore  the  door.  Witli  the  exception  of  a  single  slight  article  of 
clothing,  which  was  probably  caught  by  the  bushes  as  they  fled,  no  relic  has 
ever  been  discovered  of  this  unfortunate  famUy  ;  and  the  fearful  character  of 
this  catastrophe,  as  well  as  the  mystery  which  attaches  to  it,  have  invested  the 
spot,  in  the  minds  of  travellers,  with  a  romantic  and  melancholy  interest. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WAKE,    JR.  125 

They  feared.     The  morning  saw  them  in  their  tranquil  home, 

A  family  of  love  ;  the  mother  smiled 

Upon  her  five  young-  mountaineers,  and  joyed 

To  aid  them  in  their  sports,  and  lead  them  on 

To  better  things  than  sport.     The  drizzly  rains 

Confined  the  father  too  within,  and  much 

They  talked,  perchance,  and  marvelled  at  the  storm, 

That,  seemingly  exhausted,  still  poured  on 

Floods  inexhaustible,  and  gathering 

Blackness  and  fury  ten-fold,  as  the  day 

Passed  on.     Yet  what  felt  they  of  fear,  or  why  ? 

Were  they  not  sheltered  in  a  quiet  home  1 

And  what  but  pleasure,  from  their  nook  secure, 

To  look  abroad  on  this  sublime  display 

Of  Nature's  glorious  and  unusual  pomp  ? 

"  So  came  the  eve,  and  with  the  eve  came  fear ; 
The  tumult  thickens,  fiercer  winds  arise, 
More  copious  torrents  fall,  the  mountain  groans. 
Signs  of  unwonted  dread  are  heard  abroad. 
But  what  do  they  portend,— the  danger  what? 
The  safety,  where  1  in  quiet  or  in  flight  ? 
Oh,  horrible  suspense !  and,  at  some  sound 
Of  ominous  import,  forth  at  once 
Wife,  husband,  children,  in  distraction  rush. 
Again  the  sound  terrific,  like  the  crash 
Of  earth's  last  wreck,  burst  on  their  frightened  ear, 
And  the  descending  ruin  bears  them  down. 

^'  They  sleep  in  peace  ;  and,  humble  as  they  were, 
Few  of  earth's  honored  sons  have  monument 
Magnificent  as  this. 

To  form  it,  this  perpetual  hill  did  bow, 
These  hoary  rocks  forsook  their  ancient  base. 
And  here,  while  time  shall  last,  the  funeral  pile 
Shall  tell  where  they  repose.     The  crowds  that  come 
To  worship  at  this  mountain,  countless  tribes 
With  numbers  yearly  growing,  shall  be  found 
Seeking  their  sepulchre,  to  learn  their  names. — 
VOL.  n.  11^ 


126  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

To  hear  the  story  of  their  fate,  and  speak 

One  ^vord  of  pity  at  the  awful  tale. 

Sleep,  then,  in  peace  ;  unwonted  death  was  yours, 

Yours  an  unwonted  monument,  and  yours 

Funereal  pomp  that  kings  have  never  known. 

Here,  in  the  embosomed  depth 

Of  these  your  native  mountains,  sleep  in  peace, 

Till  the  last  tempest  rend  the  mount  again, 

And  call  you  from  its  bosom  into  light." 

During  the  remainder  of  this  year  and  the  next,  his 
bodily  condition  was  uncommonly  good.  He  was,  it  is 
true,  far  from  possessing  now  that  degree  of  heaUh 
which  he  enjoyed  during  much  of  the  period  of  his 
ministry ;  but  he  was  uniformly  able  to  attend  to  all  the 
calls  of  his  office,  and  was  not  forced  to  absent  himself 
from  home  for  the  purpose  of  physical  restoration.  He 
went  through,  however,  with  a  trial  of  much  anxiety 
and  affliction,  in  the  long-continued  and  alarming  sick- 
ness of  his  wife,  terminating  happily  at  last  in  her  com- 
plete recovery;  and  m  the  sickness  and  death  of  his 
second  son,  a  child  about  three  years  of  age. 


CHAPTER    XYIl. 

PUBLICATION  OF  THE  "SUNDAY  LIBRARY  "  —  IIIS  "LIFE  OF  THE 
SAVIOUR  "  —  "  SCENES  AND  CHARACTERS  ILLUSTRATING  CHRISTIAN 
TRUTH  "  —  SICKNESS  IN  1833  — LETTER  TO  MR.  ROBBINS  — PREPARES 
A  "MEMOIR  OF  THE  REV,  DR.  PARKER  "  —  HIS  CONNEXION  WITH 
THE  ANTI-SLAVERY  CAUSE  — HIS  TRUE  POSITION  WITH  REGARD  TO 
IT— LETTERS    RELATING    TO    IT. 

1831-1835.     JETS.  37-41, 

Notwithstanding  these  calls  on  Ms  time  and  his  feel- 
ings, he  was  engaged  in  several  other  enterprises  beside 
his  regular  duties.  He  superm tended  the  publication 
of  an  edition  of  the  "  Life  of  Oberlin,"  and  prefixed  to 
it  an  Introduction  written  by  himself  He  printed  a 
Tract  entitled,  ''An  Outline  of  the  Scripture  Testimony 
against  the  Trinity,"  He  delivered  also  an  Address 
before  the  Cambridge  Temperance  Society,  entitled 
"The  Combination  against  Intemperance  explained 
and  justified;"  illustrating  the  necessity  of  this  com- 
bination ;  defending  its  principles,  especially  that  which 
demands  the  pledge  of  entire  abstinence;  and  stating 
distinctly  the  results  which  it  aimed  to  bring  about, 
namely,  the  extermination,  the  absolute,  perpetual  ex- 
termination, of  ardent  spirits  as  an  article  of  drink. 
Of  this  Address  two  editions  of  ten  thousand  copies 
were  published  and  distributed,  one  of  them  at  Albany, 
at  the  instance,  it  is  believed,  of  a  very  distinguished 
and  persevering  friend  of  the  cause  of  temperance. 


128 

He  projected,  also,  during  this  year,  the  publication 
of  a  periodical  series  of  volumes,  under  the  name  of 
''The  Sunday  Library,"  Among  the  wants  of  the 
religious  public,  which  were  the  constant  subjects  of 
his  thoughts  and  purposes,  he  had  long  felt  one  to  be 
the  want  of  suitable  books  for  the  Sunday  reading  of 
young  persons,— of  those  who  are  old  enough  to  think, 
and  consequently  to  need  instruction,  on  religious  sub- 
jects, and  who  are  so  young  as  to  render  it  necessary  that 
the  form  in  which  they  are  presented  should  be  made 
attractive.  Indeed,  every  one  who  has  had  the  care 
of  the  young  at  any  age  must  have  been  aware  of  this 
want,  and  have  experienced  the  same  difficulty,  namely, 
the  difficulty  of  finding  such  employment  for  them,  as 
is  not  at  variance  with  the  sacred  nature  of  the  day, 
and  yet  has  in  it  sufficient  relish  for  the  tastes  and 
habits  of  mind  at  their  time  of  life. 

In  order  to  fill  up  this  deficiency,  he  proposed  to  issue, 
at  short  intervals,  a  volume  of  two  or  three  hmidred 
pages,  on  subjects  calculated  to  excite  the  interest  of 
this  class  of  readers,  and  written  in  a  manner  adapted 
to  their  tastes  and  capacities.  In  pursuance  of  this 
plan,  he  laid  out  a  series  of  subjects,  and,  in  the  course 
of  the  year  1832,  wrote,  as  the  first  volume,  "  The  liife 
of  the  Saviour,"  which  he  published  in  January,  1833. 
This  was  received  with  much  approbation.  A  second 
edition  was  called  for  in  the  same  year,  and  several 
others  have  been  published  since.  It  was  also  reprinted 
in  England,  and  still  continues  in  circulation  there, 
though,  it  is  believed,  without  the  author's  name.  Its 
circulation,  and  the  approbation  it  received,  even  in 
this  country,  were  by  no  means  confined  to  those  of 
the  author's  own  religious  denomination. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  129 

This  volume  was  followed  by  "  The  Life  of  How- 
ard," written  by  Mrs.  Farrar,  and  intended  as  the  first 
of  a  subordinate  series  of  '-Lives  of  the  Philanthro- 
pists." Subsequently  appeared,  "  The  Holy  Land  and 
its  Inhabitants,"  by  the  Rev.  S.  G.  Bulfinch,  and  a 
"History  of  the  Reformation,"  by  the  Rev.  T.  B.  Fox. 
These  works  were  well  received  by  the  public,  their 
circulation  was  extensive,  and  their  sale  such  as  to 
afford  to  the  writers  a  sufficient  remuneration ;  still,  at 
the  close  of  the  fourth  volume,  the  work  was  discon- 
tmued,  simply  from  the  difficulty,  notwithstanding  the 
strenuous  eftbrts  of  the  editor,  of  finding  writers  willing 
to  contribute  their  aid,  and  the  impossibility  of  his  car- 
rying it  on  alone. 

In  the  next  year,  1834,  while  this  work  was  in  pro- 
gress, and,  as  he  supposed,  in  successful  progress,  and 
the  labor  necessary  for  its  continuance  committed  to 
other  hands,  he  projected  another  publication,  having 
somewhat  of  the  same  general  purpose,  namely,  to  pro- 
vide interesting  reading  of  a  moral  and  religious  kind 
for  the  young.  It  was  entitled,  "  Scenes  and  Charac- 
ters illustrating  Christian  Truth."  In  carrying  out 
this  plan,  he  in  the  first  place  selected  a  variety  of 
topics,  which  seemed  to  him  capable  of  suitable  illus- 
tration in  the  form  of  tales  or  sketches,  and  then  en- 
deavored to  find,  among  those  of  our  writers  who  had 
distinguished  themselves  by  compositions  of  this  kind, 
persons  who  would  be  willing  to  assist  him  in  his 
undertaking.  In  this  attempt  he  was  less  successful 
than  was  to  have  been  wished  or  expected.  He  was 
able  to  prevail  on  but  six  of  those  to  whom  he  applied, 
to  aid  him,  and  the  work  therefore  only  reached  the 
sixth  Number.     The  fi.rst  Number,  ' '  Trial  and  Self-Dis- 


130 


JR. 


cipline,"  was  written  by  Miss  Savage;  the  second, 
''The  Skeptic,"  by  Mrs.  Follen;  the  third,  '-Home,"  by 
Miss  Sedgwick ;  the  fourth,  "  Gleams  of  Truth,"  by  Dr. 
Tuckerman;  the  fifth,  ''The  Backshder,"  by  Mrs. 
George  G.  Lee;  the  sixth,  "Alfred,"  by  his  sister,  Mrs. 
Edward  B.  Hall. 

This  attempt  fell  short  of  its  object  solely  from  the 
want  of  contributions.  The  Numbers  which  were  pub- 
lished, were  Avell  received,  some  of  them  were  very 
popular;  the  public  were  interested,  and  the  purpose 
was  so  far  fully  answered,  but  it  was  found  impossible 
to  procure  the  requisite  materials  for  its  continuance. 
It  might  seem,  that  these  enterprises  were  too  much  for 
the  time  and  attention  of  one  man,  already  sufficiently 
occupied  with  the  labors  of  his  place ;  but  it  should  be 
stated,  on  the  other  hand,  that  it  Avas  not  the  expecta- 
tion of  the  projector  of  these  works,  to  take  any  part  in 
the  details  of  their  execution,  but  merely  to  lay  out  the 
general  plan,  to  furnish  subjects,  and  trust  to  others  for 
the  treatment  of  them.  His  experience  at  length  con- 
vinced him,  that  it  is  easier  to  obtain  promises  of  assist- 
ance, than  their  performance. 

The  history  of  these  projects  is  noticed  a  little  out  of 
the  order  of  time,  from  their  natural  comiexion  with 
each  other.  But,  to  go  back  to  the  personal  histor}''  of 
our  subject;  in  the  beginning  of  1833,  he  was  again 
confined  by  long-continued,  though  not  very  severe,  ill- 
ness. He  had  had  a  slight  attack  of  ill  health  in  the 
summer  of  1832,  but,  with  this  single  exception,  that 
year  had  been  marked  by  peculiar  exemption  from  his 
usual  maladies,  and  by  unusual  capacity  for  exertion, 
as  is  sufficiently  shown  by  the  fact,  that  he  had,  in  the 
course  of  it,  beside   performing  the  regular  duties  of 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WAREj    JR.  131 

his  professorship,  composed  and  pubHshed  the  several 
works  aheady  mentioned,  namely,  ''The  Life  of  the 
Saviour,"  the  edition  of  "Oberhn,"  the  Temperance 
^'  Address,"  and  a  Tract  on  "  The  Trinity."  No  doubt 
he  had,  by  these  unusual  labors,  draAvn  too  largely  on 
his  stock  of  health.  The  effects  manifested  themselves 
not  so  much  by  an  attack  of  distinct  disease,  as  by  the 
existence  of  a  state  of  great  and  unaccountable  exhaus- 
tion and  prostration.  This  was  so  considerable,  as  to 
confine  him  to  his  house  and,  during  much  of  the  time, 
to  his  chamber,  for  a  part  of  the  months  of  January, 
February,  and  March,  in  1833.  This  confinement  was 
attended  by  a  greater  degree  of  depression  of  spirits  and 
of  incapacity  for  exertion  of  any  kind,  than  was  usual  to 
him  even  when  subjected  to  disease  of  considerable  se- 
verity. The  winter  and  the  first  month  of  sprin  g  passed 
without  any  appreciable  improvement ;  and,  despairing 
of  it  at  home,  he  set  out  at  the  end  of  March  for  the 
South,  and  began  so  immediately  and  rapidly  to  amend, 
that  he  returned  to  Cambridge  in  about  four  weeks, 
almost  completely  renovated.  It  was  truly  remarkable 
to  observe,  on  this  and  many  other  occasions,  how  very 
sensible  was  his  constitution,  so  long  as  anything  of  its 
original  elasticity  remained,  to  the  invigorating  influen- 
ces of  change  of  place  and  air,  and  of  an  interest  in 
new  scenes  and  objects;  and  how  rapidly  his  health 
improved  when  he  was  freed  from  the  pressure  of  those 
occupations  by  which  he  was  burdened  when  at  home. 
How  probable  is  it.  that  a  more  equal  distribution  of  his 
efforts,  and  a  more  careful  adjustment  of  his  labors  to 
his  ability  to  accomplish  them,  might  have  retarded  for 
a  considerable  time  the  progress  of  disease,  and  pro- 
tracted the  term  of  his  life  and  of  his  usefulness. 


132  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

In  December,  1833,  he  was  called  upon  to  assist  in  the 
ordination  of  another  minister  over  his  old  parish,  his 
immediate  successor,  Mr.  Emerson,  having  relinquished 
the  charge  of  it,  and  Mr.  Chandler  Robbins  having  been 
invited  to  fill  his  place.  He  preached  the  sermon  on 
this  occasion,  which  occurred  on  Wednesday,  Decem- 
ber 4th.  As  a  mark  of  the  continued  interest  which  he 
felt  in  this  Society,  as  well  as  of  his  personal  regard  for 
their  new  pastor,  the  follov/ing  letter  is  inserted,  written 
on  the  Sabbath  following  the  ordination: 

to  the  rev.  chandler  robbins. 

"  Ca3ibridge,  December  8,  1833. 
"  My  dear  Young  Friend, 

"  My  thoughts  are  so  much  with  you  to-da}^  that  I  think  1 
must  send  some  of  them  to  you.  I  well  remember  the  solic- 
itude and  trembling  with  which  I  passed  through  the  first 
Sabbath  of  my  own  ministry,  on  which  so  many  interests  of 
so  many  persons  were  depending ;  and  I  deeply  sympathize 
with  you  in  the  same  mixed  trial  of  feeling  through  which 
you  are  passing.  May  it  be  peculiarly  blessed  to  you,  and 
no  prayer  that  you  offer  be  unanswered.  And  will  you  allow 
me,  in  consequence  of  the  interest  I  take  in  your  people,  as 
well  as  in  yourself,  to  express  a  few  of  the  thoughts  which 
are  passing  through  my  mind  ? 

"  In  the  first  place,  you  are  to  be  congratulated  on  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  you  have  been  called  to  the  Second 
Church.  Yet,  at  the  same  time,  they  constitute  a  peculiar 
trial.  The  cordiality  and  unanimity  of  feeling  among  the 
people,  while  gratifying,  is  yet  founded  upon  a  very  slight 
personal  knowledge,  and  probably  exists  with  some  coloring 
of  their  own  imaginations.  Now  I  say,  that  these  circum- 
stances will  constitute  a  peculiar  trial,  making  it  perhaps  more 
than  usually  difficult  to  come  up  to  expectations,  founded  not 


JR.  133 

wholly  on  personal  knowledge,  but  in  part  on  public  rumor, 
and  in  part  also  on  imagination.  I  have  no  apprehension  on 
this  score,  provided  you  be  aware  of  the  truth,  and  able  to 
direct  yourself  accordingly.  But  I  have  seen  some  instances  of 
the  evil  arising  from  a  young  man's  beginning  at  the  top  of  the 
ladder,  as  it  is  phrased,  and  would  gladly  put  you  on  your 
guard,  so  that  you  may  hold  on  and  not  fall  off;  which  is 
oftentimes.much  more  difficult  than  to  climb  up  from  the  bot- 
tom. In  connexion  with  this,  is  to  be  recollected  the  state 
of  your  health,  wdiich  deprived  you  of  much  of  the  time 
which  would  have  otherwise  been  given  to  laying  up  resources, 
and  which  may  render  laborious  exertions  difficult  for  you,  if 
not  dangerous.  For  this  reason,  I  hope  that  you  will  attempt 
nothing  in  the  way  of  vestry  meetings  or  any  extraordinary 
labors  this  winter.  By  all  means,  run  no  risks  beyond  the 
necessary  toils  of  a  new  preacher,  pastor,  and  house-keeper. 
It  is  always  a  great  evil,  that  the  new  minister  rushes  into  such 
a  crowd  of  engagements  ;  he  should  not  needlessly  multiply 
them. 

"  Then,  I  cannot  help  feeling  a  great  interest  in  you  as  a 
minister  in  the  city,  where  a  great  deal  is  to  be  desired  from 
the  general  influence  of  the  clergy  on  the  public  mind,  and 
where  I  think  the  clergy  have  been  in  the  habit  of  exerting 
less  than  they  might  and  should.  But  I  do  not  mean  to 
enlarge  upon  this  point.  I  would  say  only,  that,  unless  times 
have  greatly  changed,  the  North  End  affords  a  field  of  local 
influence  beyond  any  other  part  of  the  town ;  and  from  local 
to  general  influence  the  advance  is  not  difficult.  As  a  citizen 
of  the  North  End,  sharing  the  local  interests,  and  aiding  the 
improvement,  of  that  section,  you  may  soon  find  yourself 
valued,  and,  I  hope,  be  able  to  restore  your  Society  to  its  old 
local  character,  and  cause  it  to  be  constituted  of  the  people  of 
that  part  of  the  town,  rather  than  of  the  distant  sections. 

"  Then,  when  I  remember  what  a  city  minister's  life  is,  its 
exactions,  and  trials,  and  exhaustions,  and  interruptions,  I  feel 

VOL.  II.  12 


134  LIFE    OF   HEx\RY   WARE,    JR. 

extremely  solicitous,  that  you  should  have  the  wisdom,  from 
the  first,  to  adopt  that  course,  which  will  enable  you  to  meet  all 
without  failing  or  breaking  down  ;  and,  for  this  reason,  I  wish  to 
urge  on  you  the  necessity  of  plan  and  method  in  all  your  ar- 
rangements of  time,  and  modes  of  life.  I  do  not  know  what  your 
habits  are,  and  therefore,  perhaps,  all  I  may  suggest  is  wholly 
unnecessary.  But  I  do  know  what  a  Boston  minister's  habits 
ought  to  be,  if  he  would  have  comfort,  success,  or  improvement; 
and,  unless  he  start  with  them,  he  can  never  hope  to  attain  them. 
I  venture  to  speak  of  this  with  the  greater  emphasis,  because 
you  are  beginning  your  family  arrangements  at  the  same  time 
with  those  of  your  ministry,  and  may  and  ought  to  have  a 
regard  to  the  same  interest  in  both  plans.  If  I  were  now  to 
go  back  to  Boston,  knowing  what  I  do,  I  should  adopt  and 
adhere  to  a  plan  somewhat  like  this :  To  secure  four  hours 
of  absolute  retired  study  in  the  morning,  and  never  leave  my 
house  before  twelve  o'clock,  except  in  cases  of  necessity ; — 
to  devote  four  afternoons  in  each  week  to  pastoral  duty,  one 
to  other  friends,  and  one  to  recreation.  By  adhering  to  this, 
I  might  hope  to  keep  my  business  in  order,  and  not  greatly 
fail  of  any  duty.  Otherwise,  I  should  expect  my  life  to  be 
one  of  perpetual  confusion  and  vexation.  And,  though  1 
never  would  be  a  slave  to  my  method,  yet  I  should  feel  it 
essential  to  my  peace,  that  I  should  deviate  from  it  as 
seldom  and  as  little  as  possible.  Otherw^ise,  my  time,  my 
health,  and  my  conscience  would  be  at  the  mercy  of  other 
men. 

"  The  cheerful  and  confiding  temper,  with  whicji  you  begin 
your  work,  is  an  augury  of  success.  May  God  grant,  that 
nothing  may  occur  to  damp  your  spirits,  or  repress  your  ardor. 
But  you  must  be  prepared  for  discouragement  of  various  sorts, 
and  prepared  to  meet  them  without  allowing  them  to  depress 
you.  I  know  of  no  recipe,  beyond  that  of  a  devout  faith,  for 
meeting  such  things  without  depression,  better  than  to  keep 
in  good  health,  and  never  he  hurried  ;  that  is,  never  let  one's 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,   JR.  135 

business  get  behindhand  ;    have  the  accounts  of  every  day 
squared  at  its  close.     ^  Haud  inexpertus  loquor.^ 

"  I  feel  that  you  will  excuse  these  suggestions,  on  a  day 
like  this.  How  much  depends  upon  it !  How  much  do  you 
feel  of  the  weight  and  magnitude  of  your  coming  cares  and 
their  consequences  !  Yet  it  is  impossible,  that,  without  expe- 
rience, you  should  have  a  feeling  of  responsibility,  at  all 
approaching  that  of  one  who  has  already  been  in  the  midst, 
and  made  himself  acquainted  with  the  whole.  You  may 
judge,  then,  that  it  is  no  common  interest  which  prompts  me  to 
speak  to  you  to-day.  May  it  be  the  beginning  of  an  active, 
effective,  and  happy  ministry,  in  which  you  shall  always  seek 
and  always  find  the  blessing  of  Heaven." 

During  the  few  years,  Avhich  have  been  now  gone 
over,  of  his  residence  at  Cambridge,  there  are  several 
letters  written  at  difierent  times,  having  no  special  con- 
nexion with  the  narrative,  and  miscellaneous  in  their 
subjects,  which  are  here  subjoined.  The  following  was 
addressed  to  Mr.  Allen  in  reply  to  a  request  for  advice 
concerning  the  manner  of  managing  the  meetings  of 
Associations  of  ministers. 


TO    3m.    ALLEN. 

"  Cambridge,  November  10,  1831. 
"  Dear  Brother, 

"  I  wish  I  could  meet  the  Association  at  your  house.  I 
should  delight  lo  spend  another  day  with  that  body.  I  re- 
member my  three  days  with  them,  with  peculiar  pleasure. 
As  to  your  subject,  I  had  talked  it  over  a  little  with  Mr.  Hill, 
who  mentioned  it  to  me.  I  can  see  no  objection  to  the  plan 
vou  propose.  When  several  ministers  are  present  in  a  public 
congregation,  who  meet  in  that  way  not  very  often,  why 
should  the  whole  word  be  monopolized  by  one  ? 


136  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

"  1.  If  the  object  be  to  warm  each  other,  certainly  it  will 
be  best  effected  by  several  speaking. 

"  2.  Or,  if  instruction,  the  same. 

"  3.  The  meetings  would  be  more  interesting,  both  to  min- 
isters and  people. 

"  4.  Besides,  it  would  be  going  back  to  the  beginning  ;  for 
I  suppose,  that,  in  the  earliest  Christian  churches,  they  did  not 
dream  of  being  all  silent  but  one. 

"  5.  Have  not  all  ef  us  felt,  that  the  formality  and  uniform- 
ity of  our  meetings  for  public  worship  tend  to  render  them 
cold  and  unimpressive  ?  and  what  better  way  of  remedying 
this  evil,  than  such  a  change  in  the  form  of  these  extraordi- 
nary occasions,  as  you  propose. 

"  I  hope,  therefore,  you  will  recommend  and  urge,  that, 
after  the  sermon,  (if  you  have  one,)  the  other  ministers  should 
be  expected  to  speak ;  and,  further,  that  the  custom  should  be 
universal,  on  all  occasions,  when  more  than  one  minister  is 
present,  that  those  who  do  not  preach  should  be  asked  if  they 
have  not  a  word  of  exhortation,  and,  if  so,  be  bid  to  '  say  on,'' 
I  think  it  would  be  a  salutary  thing. 

"  By  the  way,  the  subject  of  Mr.  Hildreth's  Address  is  one 
excellently  fitted  for  a  beginning  of  this  practice,  which  I  hope 
you  will  introduce. 

"  As  to  remaining  together  two  days,  I  dare  say  you  might 
make  it  profitable.  Much  may  be  said  in  its  behalf,  and  I 
believe  that  an  impulse  would  thereby  be  given  to  all  your 
plans  of  public  improvement,  schools  and  Sunday  schools, 
libraries,  and  various  associations.  I  have  even  thought,  and 
I  think  I  mentioned  it  to  you,  that  we  should  do  ^vell  to  meet 
thus  with  lay  delegates,  in  a  sort  of  convention.  Why  not 
suggest  this,  and  discuss  it  ?  No  harm,  if  it  is  thought  pre- 
mature;  it  will  be  brought  about  at  last.  I  should  doubt, 
however,  whether  the  Association  had  best  meet  less  frequently. 
The  ministers  should  see  each  other  often,  for  many  reasons  ; 
and,  if  it  be  too  much  to  spend  two  days  together  once  a  month, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  137 

yet  they  should  at  least  meet  for  a  day  as  heretofore.  I  am 
glad  you  are  stirring  in  this  matter.  1  am  persuaded  that  we 
have  much  to  learn  respecting  the  hest  modes  of  operation 
and  influence,  and  that  we  have  to  be  convinced  of  these  two 
things,— that  ministers  are  to  take  an  active  lead  more  than 
formerly,  and  that  they  are  to  be  less  fearful  of  using  or  haz- 
arding influence  in  the  promotion  of  new  objects  for  the  gen- 
eral good." 

to  the  same. 

"  Cambridge,  March  23,  1832. 
"  We  had  a  delightful  and  exhilarating  evening  at  the 
School  last  week.  The  Philanthropic  Society,  being  engaged 
in  inquiries  relative  to  the  improvement  of  seamen,  invited 
Mr.  Taylor  to  attend  the  meeting  ;  an  invitation  was  given  to 
our  friends  in  Cambridge,  and  the  Chapel  was  well  filled. 
The  first  evening  he  was  unable  to  come,  but  we  had  excel- 
lent speaking ;  and,  adjourning  to  the  next  night,  he  came 
and  spoke  excellently  well,  and  has  done  real  good  by  his 
visit.  Such  seasons  for  warming  us  are  good.  Our  young 
men  acquitted  themselves  well ;  and  Taylor  said,  in  his 
address  : — '  I  am  astonished  ;  I  had  heard  you  were  all  cold 
Christians,  philosophers,  who  would  make  the  world  stop  to 
hear  you  think.  But  there  's  fire  amongst  you, — there  's  fire 
amongst  you 


J }) 


to  his  brother  william. 

"  Cambridge,  May  17,  1832. 
"  By  the  way,  why  won't  you  write  sermons  in  precisely 
the  brief,  pithy,  broken,  dialogue  style  of  this  letter  of  yours  ? 
It  would  be  prodigiously  taking  and  lively,  and  would  inevit- 
ably do  good  to  your  delivery.  Try  it  on  some  passage  of 
your  next  sermon.  We  want  greater  variety  of  style ;  our 
hearers'  minds  want  to  change  their  postures  as  we  proceed ; 
VOL.  n.  12^ 


138  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

and  this  should  be  a  matter  of  calculation  and  effort  with  us, 
just  as  much  as  the  plan  of  the  sermon.  When  we  always 
keep  up  the  same  sort  of  talk,  always  equally  dignified,  sol- 
emn, and  exact,  no  wonder  people  gape  and  think  it  a  long 
half-hour. 

"  A  really  excited,  extemporaneous  actor  does  not  do  this. 
He  changes  his  key, — goes  quick  and  then  slow, — asks 
questions, — answers  them, — exclaims, — reiterates, — speaks  by 
hints,— by  short  sentences, — by  single  words ;  and,  through 
this  variety,  not  only  sustains,  but  increases,  the  attention  and 
interest.  Passages  done  up  like  your  letter,  thrown  in  toward 
the  close  of  a  sermon,  would  electrify.  You  could  come  down 
on  your  hearers  like  a  storm,  and  so  make  a  peroration  that 
would  send  them  away  trembling,  and  never  to  forget.  Try 
it, — try  it.  We  don't  consider  the  secrets,  the  mysteries,  the 
power  of  style,  that  is,  of  words  and  phrases.  They  have  a 
mastery  which  we  are  strangely  insensible  to ;  and  we,  who 
have  to  live  and  work  by  them,  are  inexcusable  in  not  study- 
ing the  thing  more  ;  making  experiments,  trying  new  combi- 
nations, arrangements,— fl:r^2/?ce5,  if  you  will.  But  all  arti- 
fices (conducted  by  a  judicious  man)  are  only  experiments  to 
ascertain  what  is  natural ;  experiments  which  sometimes  fail, 
unluckily;  but  which  sometimes  succeed; — and  then,  what  a 
gain !  I  have  a  great  deal  to  say  on  this  point.  I  have 
thought  of  it,  and  made  six  lectures  on  it.  I  am  ashamed  to 
say,  I  have  not  much  practised  accordingly.  But  I  have  a 
little ;  and  I  flatter  myself  you  may  see  an  example  of  a  good 
way  of  studying  variety,  in  my  Address  and  my  Review  on 
Intemperance.  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  (pray  tell  me  if  I  am,) 
the  styles  of  the  two  things  are  entirely  unlike ;  that  of  the 
Review,  judged  on  general  principles,  far  the  best ;  that  of  the 
Address,  however,  better  suited  to  delivery.  Is  this  acci- 
dental ?  No.  A  matter  of  intention  and  design  ;  and,  how- 
ever I  may  have  failed  in  fulfilling  my  intention,  it  serves  to 
explain  what  I  mean  by  striving  for  variety  in  composition. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,   JR.  139 

"  Now  I  hold,  that  the  best  style  for  one  purpose  may  be 
the  worst  for  another ;  also,  that  every  discourse  to  be  spoken 
is  susceptible  of  a  greater  variety  in  itself,  and  that  he  who 
has  to  speak  two  a  week,  on  all  sorts  of  subjects,  should  know 
how  to  command  all  sorts  of  styles,  and  be  as  different  from 
himself,  at  different  times,  as  another  man.  The  same  in 
delivery.  Why  should  he  %vrite  or  deliver  a  Thanksgiving 
sermon  and  a  funeral  discourse  alike  ?  or  the  argument  and 
the  exhortation  of  the  same  sermon  ?  Is  not  this  sound  doc- 
trine ?  Did  you  ever  practise  on  it  ?  Did  you  ever  write  a 
sermon  in  the  manner  of  your  letter  ?  Try  it,— try  it, — and, 
my  word  for  it,  you  will  have  found  a  jewel.  Bah  !  what  a 
homily  I  have  made  !  No  matter,— you  sent  me  a  disserta- 
tion, and  here  is  one  in  return. 

"  How  glad  I  am,  you  like  Oberlin ;  and  I  agree  with  you 
about  the  book,— it  ought  to  have  been  four  times  better.  If  I 
had  read  it  before  being  in  France,  I  should  certainly  have 
gone  to  Waldbach. 

"  Spring  is  just  coming  on,  like  a  Russian  summer,  all  at 
once.  By  the  way,  have  you  read  Reinhard's  'Memoirs'? 
There 's  another  man  for  you  !  What  miserable  pigmies  we 
are !  what  idle  cumberers  of  the  ground !  Reinhard  and 
Oberlin  do  wonders ;  and  we  live  along,  and  die,  when  we 
might  be— not  as  useful  as  they,  but  less  of  nothingarians. 
We  all  need  regeneration. 

"  Good  night,  dearest  brother.  God  bless  you.  I  rejoice 
with  devout  gratitude  of  soul  in  all  the  good  I  hear  of  you,  the 
improvement  you  make,  and  your  acceptable  labors.  Go  on, 
and  prosper.  You  have  gained  much ;  you  are  destined  to 
gain  and  do  more.  Courage  and  onward.  Oceans  of  love  to 
all  of  you." 


140  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 


TO    HIS    SOX. 


[During  the  prevalence  of  the  Cholera.] 

"  Cambridge,  July  18,  1832. 

"  We  have  no  apprehension  of  the  disease  here^  and  even  in 
Boston,  so  admirable  is  the  preparation,  that  I  think  it  will 
hardly  find  any  victims.  In  all  this  we  have  reason  to  rejoice 
and  be  grateful.  But,  while  we  think  of  it  thus,  we  cannot 
help  being  impressed  with  the  thought,  that  there  are  other 
dangers  to  life  more  near  us,  and  other  evils  greater ;  and,  if 
Providence  delivers  us  from  the  pestilence,  it  ought  to  warn 
us  to  look  at  them.     I  have  been  thinking  a  good  deal  of  this. 

"  I  find  that  your  two  parents  are  in  very  frail  health,  fre- 
quently ill,  and  probably  destined  to  a  short  life.  You  will 
perhaps,  therefore,  be  left  at  an  early  age  to  take  care  of  your- 
self; and  I  often  ask  myself,  whether  you  w411  be  prepared  to 
go  on  in  an  industrious,  useful,  honorable  life,  and  make  your 
way  w^ell  in  the  world.  You  will  have  nothing  to  depend 
upon  but  the  talents  God  has  given  you,  and  your  education. 
Those  talents  are  equal  to  your  necessities,  if  you  rightly 
improve  them ;  and  I  hope  you  are  now  so  devoting  yourself 
to  study,  that  you  will  have  a  mind  richly  furnished  and  well 
cultured ;  so  that  you  will  be  able  to  take  care  of  yourself,  do 
good  to  other  men,  and  prepare  both  for  this  life  and  the  next. 
Then,  if  we  should  live  to  see  you  become  a  man,  we  should 
have  the  pleasure  in  your  prosperity,  which  my  father  has  had 
in  mine ;  and,  if  we  should  not  live,  but  should  leave  you  to 
yourself  in  the  world,  we  should  have  the  comfort  of  feeling 
that  you  will  not  fail  to  do  your  duty." 

to  the  same. 

"  Cambridge,  December  30,  1832. 
"  I  was  glad  to  perceive,  that  you  were  interested  in  '  The 
Young  Christian,'  and  that  you  allowed  yourself  to  think  of 
what  you  read.     That  is  the  only  way  to  profit  by  it ;  and 


LIFE   OF   HENRY  WARE,    JR.  141 

nothing  can  conduce  so  much  to  the  formation  of  a  right  char- 
acter and  the  securing  of  true  happiness,  as  a  fondness  for 
thoughts  and  subjects  of  this  character.  Your  notion  about 
Heaven  was  a  natural  and  rather  a  just  one.  It  is  a  place  as 
yet  secret  to  us,  except  so  far  as  we  know  it  to  be  the  dwelling 
of  the  good,  and  the  centre  of  all  bliss.  It  is  wonderful,  when 
we  know  it  to  be  so,  that  we  think  of  it  so  little.  And  espe- 
cially, when  we  have  good  friends  already  gone  there  and 
waiting  for  us,  it  is  strange  that  we  do  not  feel  always  as  if  it 
were  our  true  home,  and  prepare  to  go  thither. 

"  Eternity,  about  which  you  ask,  is  used  in  two  senses. 
When  applied  to  God,  it  means  without  beginning  and  withr 
out  end.  You  perceive,  that,  if  there  ever  was  a  time  when 
He  did  not  exist,  He  never  could  have  existed  at  all ;  because 
there  is  nothing  which  could  create  Him.  Therefore  He  had 
no  beginning.  But  when  applied  to  men,  it  means  only  luith- 
out  end ;  and  is  commonly  used  in  relation  to  a  future  life. 
So  that  7na7i's  eternity  begins  at  death.  This  is  a  subject  of 
very  grand  and  mysterious  thought.  In  '  The  American  First 
Class  Book,'  there  is  a  noble  piece  by  Mr.  Greenwood,  on 
The  Eternity  of  God.'  I  beg  you  will  get  it  and  read  it ; 
read  it  over  and  over,  and  you  will  feel  how  wonderful  and 
glorious  it  is. 

"  I  wish  it  were  possible  for  you  to  live  without  hearing  any- 
thing about  religious  parties  and  disputes,  for  it  is  a  great  mis- 
fortune to  a  young  person  to  know  anything  about  them.  But 
it  cannot  be  avoided  in  the  present  state  of  society.  There- 
fore, I  am  willing  to  answer  your  question  about  the  Unita- 
rians. They  do  not  believe  Christ  to  be  the  same  with  God, 
but  just  as  different  from  him,  as  a  son  always  is  from  his 
father.  So  that  you  perceive  there  is  no  such  perplexity  in 
ihe  case  as  you  seem  to  imagine." 


rovi-  J 
ling.  ) 


142  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

"  Steamboat  Boston,  [from  New  York  to  Provi- 
dence,] Dece3IBer  31,  1833.     Eveninj 
*'  My  dear  Son, 

"  As  the  last  hours  of  the  year  approach,  and  I  look  back 
on  the  past,  that  I  may  thank  God  for  its  blessings,  and  may 
ask  his  pardon  for  its  sins,  it  is  unavoidable  that  I  should 
think  of  you,  and  should  wish  that  you  too  may  make  the  best 
improvement  of  this  solemn  season.  I  ask  myself,  how  I  may 
help  you  do  it  ?  And  I  think  the  following  is  the  best  plan. 
Between  this  time  and  Sunday,  reflect  on  the  following  ques- 
tions seriously  and  deeply. 

"  1.  What  special  reason  have  you  for  gratitude  in  the  past 
year  ? 

"  2.  In  what  respects  have  you  made  improvement  ? 

"  3.  What  have  been,  and  are,  your  particular  faults? 

"  4.  What  resolutions  should  you  make  for  the  next  year  ? 

*'  5.  Are  you  willing  to  make  them,  and  try  to  keep  them? 

"  Write  down,  carefully  and  fully,  your  answer  to  each  of 
these  questions,  and  bring  it  to  me  Sunday  evening. 

"  My  wish  is,  to  teach  you  to  know  yourself,  and  to  help 
you  in  that  greatest  work  of  life, — self-improvement.  While 
you  think,  therefore,  every  day  on  these  questions,  do  not  fail 
also  to  pray  to  God  to  bless  you,  so  that  you  may  learn  and  do 
your  whole  duty. 

"  Your  affectionate  father." 

The  next  year,  1834,  passed  with  very  little  serious 
interruption  from  ill  health.  I  do  not  find,  indeed,  that 
he  was  detained  by  it  from  his  usual  duties  for  a  single 
day.  Tlie  letter,  however,  inserted  below,  refers  ob- 
viously to  an  attack  which  took  place  while  he  was  on 
a  visit  at  Portsmouth.  It  contains  statements  with 
regard  to  his  frequent  returns  of  ill  health,  which  were 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE;  JR.  143 

perfectly  true,  and  exhibits  a  feeling  on  the  subject 
with  which  every  habitual  invalid  will  heartily  sympa- 
thize. 

to  the  rev.  mr.  gannett. 

"  Cambridge,  April  17,  1834. 
"  My  dear  Gannett, 

"  I  could  not  but  feel  grateful,  though  surprised  and  per- 
plexed, at  the  manner  of  your  speaking  to  me  yesterday. 
Like  many  of  my  friends,  it  showed  you  to  lie  under  a  misap- 
prehension, which  is  to  be  removed.  I  am  tired  of  explaining, 
for  people  will  neither  understand  nor  believe  me ;  and  heart- 
ily sick  of  being  obliged  to  think,  act,  and  speak,  with  so 
much  reference  to  myself;  and  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  evils 
of  my  oft  infirmities,  that  they  compel  me  to  be  misunderstood, 
and  therefore  blamed,  in  spite  of  all  explanations.  But  I  do 
wish  you  might  see  things  as  they  are,  and  not  be  amongst 
those  who  misinterpret  and  censure.  (The  last  man,  by  the 
way,  who  should  pluck  these  motes  out  of  my  eye,  would  be 
the  exclamation  of  your  friends.) 

"  The  long  and  short  of  the  matter  is  this  ;— I  am  and  have 
been  constitutionally  subject,  from  boyhood,  to  attacks  of  slight 
disease  every  four,  six,  eight,  or  twelve  weeks.  It  used  to  be 
sick  headache,  lasting  twelve  or  twenty-four  hours.  Since  my 
serious  illness,  it  has  changed  its  form  and  become  a  mere 
obstruction  of  the  digestive  organs,  lasting  one,  two,  three,  or 
four  days,  according  as  I  may  have  succeeded  in  delaying  its 
recurrence.  Now  this  takes  place  just  as  surely  when  I  am 
quietly  and  leisurely  doing  my  little  routine  at  home,  as  when 
I  undertake  anything  extra.  Yet,  if  so,  it  goes  off  without  any 
eclat  or  exclamation,  as  it  ought.  But  if,  by  chance,  it  occur 
when  I  have  been  preaching  anywhere,  or  riding  from  home, 
or  writing  an  article  for  '  The  Examiner,'  then  I  am  sure  to 
be  scolded.  Is  this  reasonable  ?  Is  it  not  hard  to  bear  ?  and 
must  I  refuse  to  do  anything  beyond  my  daily  round,  because 


144  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

people  will  misunderstand  this  matter?     I  think  not;  and  I 
think  you  will  agree  with  me. 

"  As  for  this  recent  attack,  I  had  succeeded  by  gre\t  care- 
fulness in  protracting  the  time  of  its  recurrence  unusually, 
and,  in  consequence,  it  was  a  little  more  severe  than  usual. 
But,  if  I  had  not  been  away  from  home,  you  would  never  have 
known  it;  for,  when  these  turns  occur  at  home,  they  are  not 
matters  of  public  emblazonment,  though  they  are  just  as  truly 
my  sins. 

"  Now  I  beg  you  to  allow  this  to  pass  for  a  sufficient  vindi- 
cation, and  to  make  you  my  vindicator,  and  not  my  accuser  : 
it  being  hardship  enough  for  me  to  bear  my  trial  without 
having  added  to  it  the  reproaches  of  those  I  honor  and  love. 

"  And,  finally,  let  me  ask  you  to  reflect,  whether  the  heam^ 
as  big  and  as  violently  worked  as  a  battering-ram,  ought  not 
to  be  plucked  out  of  your  eye,  now  that  you  have  got  the  mote 
out  of  mine.  There  is  no  doubt,  that  you  are  fast  overthrow- 
ing yourself,  and  are  soon  to  be  numbered  among  the  crip- 
pled. It  ought  not  to  be  so.  The  company  of  invalid  pen- 
sioners is  large  enough,  and  the  church  cannot  afford  to  have 
you  taken  from  its  active  service  and  thrown  into  its  hospital. 
I  know  that  you  will  think  and  act  for  yourself; — but,  if  the 
four  last  years  of  my  bitter,  litter  experience  could  but  warn 
and  move  you,  and  save  you  from  premature  decrepitude  and 
uselessness,  I  should  have  one  more  reason  to  bless  God  for 
having  allowed  me  to  do  some  good. 

"  Yours,  in  all  truth  and  love." 

The  visit  to  Portsmouth,  just  referred  to,  took  place  in 
the  April  of  this  year.  He  went  there  for  the  purpose 
of  collecting  materials  for  a  biographical  sketch  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Parker,  who  had  died  the  preceding  year ;  a 
man  eminent  m  his  public  office,  as  a  minister  of  reli- 
gion, and  deeply  and  widely  venerated  for  the  Christian 
virtues  of  his  character.     My  brother  had  been  selected 


JR.  145 

and  invited,  by  a  committee  of  the  Parish  over  which 
Dr.  Parker  had  ministered,  to  prepare  this  Memoir,  and 
the  task  was  a  pecuharly  grateful  one.  As  long  ago  as 
during  his  residence  in  Exeter,  he  had  hstened  with 
great  satisfaction  to  Dr.  Parker's  preaching;  and  there 
are  among  his  papers  several  notices  and  analyses  of 
his  sermons ;  and,  ever  since  his  own  entrance  into  the 
profession,  he  had  ahvays  looked  upon  him  as  possess- 
ing and  exhibiting  in  a  remarkable  manner  those  qual- 
ities and  traits  of  character,  Avhich  should  distinguish 
the  clergyman.  He  regarded  him  as  a  model-man  in 
the  sacred  office.  There  are  a  few  letters  relating  to 
this  undertaking. 

to  his  son. 

"  Portsmouth,  April  8,  1834. 

"  Yesterday  I  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  Dr.  Par- 
ker's study,  writing  and  overlooking  papers.  I  suppose  that 
you  know  what  my  errand  is,  and  I  find  it  extremely  interest- 
ing. It  seems  like  a  sacred  work  to  sit  in  the  chamber  of  a 
good  man  and  see  what  he  did  while  alive,  and  to  hear  from 
all  about  him  of  his  usefulness  and  benevolence,  and  to  wit- 
ness proofs  of  his  good  influence  on  others.  He  was  so  good, 
so  active,  so  disinterested,  that  everybody  honored  and  loved 
him,  and  many  speak  of  him  as  their  greatest  benefactor. 
And,  while  I  see  what  he  has  done,  and  how  deeply  his  peo- 
ple loved  and  now  bless  him,  I  feel  that  the  ministry  is  the 
holiest  and  happiest  work  on  earth,  and  a  good  man  the  great- 
est man ;  and  I  feel  ashamed  to  think  how  far  I  have  myself 
come  short  of  what  I  might  have  been,  and  ought  to  have 
done." 

VOL.  II.  13 


146  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

to  mrs.  parker. 

"  Cajmbridge,  April  17,  1834. 
"  My  DEAR  Madam, 

"  The  kindness  with  which  you  inquired  for  me,  during  my 
indisposition  at  Mrs.  Adams's,  makes  me  certain  that  you  will 
not  be  unwilling-  to  learn  from  my  own  pen,  that  I  am  wholly 
recovered  from  it,  and  quite  well  again,  excepting  that  I  am 
rather  weak ;  an  evil,  which  every  hour  helps  to  remove.  I 
found  my  household  in  a  condition  to  call  for  strong  feeling; 
and  I  have  seldom  been  so  deeply  touched,  as  when  I  learned 
that  our  little  boy,  two  years  old,  had  been  for  six  hours,  on 
Sunday,  between  life  and  death,  every  gasp  seeming  to  be  his 
last,  and  twice  his  breathing  so  long  suspended,  that  all  sup- 
posed him  to  be  gone.  We  feel  toward  him  now,  as  toward 
one  raised,  like  the  widow's  son,  from  the  grave.  I  trust  his 
life  has  been  spared  for  some  good  end. 

"  I  cannot  help  connecting  this  incident  with  the  visit  which 
I  have  just  been  making  at  Portsmouth,  and  feeling  as  if  it 
were  the  design  of  Providence  to  strengthen  in  me  the  feel- 
ings and  purposes  to  which  that  visit  had  given  rise.  I  must 
repeat  to  you,  that  I  consider  it  a  privilege  to  have  been 
engaged  as  I  have  been  ;  and,  should  I  fail  at  last  of  satisfying 
the  wishes  and  feelings  of  the  friends  of  our  departed  and 
lamented  friend,  yet  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  myself  be  abun- 
dantly rewarded  by  the  impressions  and  instructions  which  I 
have  received.  But  I  will  try  not  to  fail ;  and  I  am  assured  of 
the  candid  and  considerate  judgment  of  those  most  deeply 
interested." 

This  Memoir  was  not  completed  till  the  beginning  of 
the  next  year.  It  was  prefixed  to  a  volume  of  Sermons, 
and  was  also  published  separately. 

During  this  year,  my  brother's  name  became  con- 
nected, in  the  public  mind,  with  the  movements  of  the 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  147 

Anti-Slavery  party,  which  about  this  period  were 
becoming  more  and  more  a  matter  of  interest  and  ex- 
citement, from  the  greater  zeal  and  activity  manifested 
by  those  who  were  engaged  in  them.  No  friend  of 
humanity  can  fail  to  sympathize  with,  and  wish  suc- 
cess to,  exertions  having  in  view  so  noble  an  object  as 
American  Emancipation ;  and,  in  common  with  all 
enterprises  intended  for  the  amelioration  of  the  condi- 
tion of  any  portion  of  mankind,  he  felt  strongly  impelled, 
not  only  to  bid  God-speed  to  the  undertaking,  but  to  join 
heart  and  hand  in  promoting  its  accomplishment.  With 
this  feeling  he  engaged  cordially  in  some  of  the  earlier 
proceedings  of  the  Abolitionists.  He  assisted  in  the  for- 
mation of  an  Anti-Slavery  Society  in  Cambridge,  and 
was  elected  its  president.  At  this  period,  as  will  be 
readily  recollected,  efforts  of  this  nature  were^by  no 
means  looked  upon  with  so  tolerant  a  spirit  as  that 
with  which  they  are  now  regarded.  Mr.  Ware  gave 
much  offence  by  the  part  which  he  thus  took,  and  espe- 
cially by  his  announcing  an  Anti-Slavery  meeting  from 
one  of  the  pulpits  in  Boston  after  divine  service.  For 
his  course  in  this  matter,  and  especially  for  this  par- 
ticular act,  he  was  subjected  to  animadversion  in  the 
public  papers  in  a  manner  which  would  now  be  hardly 
considered  possible ;  and  many  of  his  warmest  personal 
friends,  and  friends  of  the  University  and  of  the  Theo- 
logical School,  remonstrated  with  him  very  earnestly. 
It  was  seriously  represented  to  him,  that,  whatever 
might  be  his  individual  opinions  and  sympathies  on 
this  subject,  he  was  bound,  as  the  servant  of  the  Col- 
lege, as  the  servant  of  the  public,  designated  by  them 
for  a  peculiar  function,  to  avoid  any  such  entanglements 
with   the  exciting  movements  of  the  day,  as  would 


148  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

interfere  with  his  exertions,  or  impair  his  lisefiihiess,  in 
that  relation.  Most  of  the  expressions  of  opinion,  which 
this  subject  called  forth,  were  characterized  by  that 
kindness,  forbearance,  and  respect,  which  were  due  to 
the  unquestioned  purity  of  his  motives,  and  the  sincer- 
ity of  his  convictions ;  but  some,  it  must  be  confessed, 
were  marked  by  a  harshness,  which  could  not  but  have 
been  deeply  painful  to  one  of  so  mild  and  gentle  a 
spirit. 

Doubtless  he  gave  to  these  remonstrances,  so  far  as 
they  related  to  a  duty  growing  out  of  his  connexion 
with  the  College,  due  consideration;  but  it  is  certain 
that  he  never  recognized  for  a  moment  the  right  of  the 
College,  or  of  the  friends  of  the  College,  to  question 
him,  or  interfere  with  respect  to  the  part  he  felt  called 
on  to  take  as  to  this  or  any  other  of  the  agitating  topics 
of  the  times.  It  was  reported,  and  believed  by  many, 
that  the  Government  of  the  College  had  expressly  made 
his  silence  in  this  matter  a  condition  of  his  continuance 
in  his  office.  He  would  not  have  held  his  office  an  hour 
on  such  terms  ;  and  I  have  the  most  direct  authority  for 
asserting,  that  such  dictation  was  never  dreamed  of, 
and  tlie  supposition  that  it  was  possible,  was  repelled 
with  indignation. 

But,  although  he  yielded  a  respectful  attention  to  the 
entreaties  of  his  friends  on  this  point,  it  was  not  owing 
to  any  such  external  influence,  that  he  did  not  continue 
to  cooperate  in  a  formal  manner  with  the  Abolitionists, 
and  consent  to  be  one  of  that  body,  which  has  since 
acted  so  prominent  a  part  before  the  public.  That  he 
continued  through  life  to  sympathize  most  heartily  with 
the  great  cfibrts  which  were  made,  and  for  the  most 
part  with  the  men  who  were  making  them ;  that  he 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  149 

prayed  most  earnestly  for  the  success  of  their  enterprise; 
that  he  beheved,  in  the  main,  that  they  were  doing 
good  to  the  cause, — I  have  the  best  reason  for  knowing. 
There  was  no  want  of  hearty  interest  in  their  under- 
taking, and  no  indisposition  to  put  forth  his  own  arm  in 
its  aid,  in  a  proper  time  and  place ;  and  the  very  last 
effort  at  composition  which  he  made,  was  in  the  pro- 
duction of  some  verses  on  this  subject. 

The  real  cause  of  the  negative  support,  which  he  was 
regarded  as  having  given  to  the  Anti-Slavery  move- 
ment subsequently  to  this  period,  was  mainly,  as  I 
believe,  the  difficulty  which  he  had  in  sympathizing 
with  the  state  of  feeling  which  existed,  and  which  it 
was  deemed  essential  should  exist,  among  those  who 
devoted  themselves  to  it,  and  his  reluctance  to  join  in 
the  kind  of  measures  which  were  judged  necessary  in 
carrying  on  their  work.  It  was  not  in  his  nature,  and 
it  did  not  accord  with  his  views  of  Christian  feeling 
toward  any  portion  of  his  fellow-men,  to  cherish  and 
propagate  that  spirit  of  denunciation,  of  harsh  con- 
struction of  character,  conduct,  and  motives ;  and  that 
intolerant,  persecuting  temper  (for  intolerance  and  per- 
secution are,  in  their  essence,  by  no  means  the  exclu- 
sive failing  of  a  majority),  which  have  too  often  distin- 
guished some  of  the  principal  champions  of  Abolition, 
and  have  kept  from,  or  driven  from,  their  ranks  many 
of  the  milder  spirits,  who  otherwise  would  have  re- 
joiced to  join  in  the  enterprise.  He  could  feel,  that  the 
African  was  his  brother,  and  desire  and  strive  to  impart 
to  him  an  equality  of  privileges  and  hopes ;  he  did  not, 
at  the  same  time,  any  the  less  feel,  that  the  master  was 
also  the  brother  of  each.  He  would  have  pleaded  the 
cause  of  the  slave  in  the  spirit  of  love  and  not  of  wrath  • 

VOL.  II.  13^ 


150  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

and  would  have  entreated  the  master  as  a  brother,  and 
not  arraigned  him  as  a  criminal.  He  believed,  that 
great  reforms  in  the  face  of  society  must  necessarily 
proceed  slowly;  that  great  changes  in  the  condition  of 
large  masses  of  men  cannot  be  readily  and  safely 
effected  at  once.  He  was  one  who  would  have  patience 
with  Providence,  and  be  content  to  be  used  as  a  means 
of  promoting  its  purposes  in  its  own  way,  instead  of 
seeking  to  direct  and  control  it. 

But,  even  supposing  the  temper  and  spirit,  in  which 
the  cause  of  Emancipation  has  been  advocated,  to  be 
right  and  politic,  my  brother  Avas  not  calculated,  by  his 
temperament  or  habits  of  action,  for  engaging  in  it. 
He  had  not  that  kind  of  nerve,  which  qualifies  foj  a 
great  work  of  reform  in  the  external  condition  of  things. 
His  mission  was  to  the  internal  man ;  his  power  was 
over  the  motives,  the  principles,  the  springs  of  moral 
and  religious  life  in  the  individual  bosom.  He  knew 
where  his  strength  lay,— instinctively  rather  than  by  a 
direct  analysis ;  and  he  wisely  devoted  himself  to  those 
objects,  which  were  within  the  compass  of  the  ability 
that  God  had  given  him.  His  views  of  the  proper  mode 
of  managing  this  cause  were  probably  expressed  in  the 
provisions  of  the  Cambridge  Society,  which  he  drew  up. 
These  were  such,  that  Dr.  Channing  said  he  should 
have  been  willing  to  subscribe  to  them ;  though,  as  is 
well  known,  he  never  identified  himself  with  the  great 
body  of  the  Abolitionists,  and,  deeply  as  he  felt  the 
wrongs  of  slavery,  and  notwithstanding  the  great  efforts 
which  he  made  in  the  cause,  never  fully  sympathized 
with  their  spirit,  or  approved  their  course  and  manage- 
ment. 

This  statement  has  not  been  made  in  my  brother's 


LIFE    OF    HENFvY    WARE,   JK.  151 

defence  against  any  charge,  brought  forward  now  or 
during  his  Ufe,  of  indifference  to  this  great  cause  of 
humanity,  or  of  a  want  of  courage  to  maintain  ground 
which  he  had  once  taken  with  regard  to  it.  I  have 
desired  merely  to  give  my  own  impressions  of  the  course 
of  his  feehngs  and  the  motives  of  his  conduct.  Some 
will  believe,  that  he  erred  in  one  direction,  and  some, 
that  he  erred  in  the  other ;  but,  whether  he  did  or  did 
not,  none  who  knew  him  will  doubt  that  he  acted  from 
a  conscientious  sense  of  right.  And  I  suspect  it  will  be 
found,  when  the  subject  is  looked  back  upon,  after  the 
heat  and  passion,  the  turbulence  and  contention,  of  the 
times  have  gone  by,  that  a  course  like  that  which  he 
would  have  advised,  and  a  spirit  such  as  he  would 
have  cherished,  might  have  produced  as  speedy,  and 
perhaps  speedier,  results,  and  would  have  been  in 
nearer  conformity  to  the  teachings  and  example  of  our 
great  Master. 

The  above  paragraphs  were  written  when  I  had 
looked  in  vain  for  any  other  remaining  expressions  of 
his  opinions  and  feelings  on  this  very  important  subject, 
except  those  which  are  contained  in  the  first  two  of  the 
following  extracts  from  his  correspondence.^  I  have 
since  been  so  fortunate  as  to  find  a  letter,  the  last  of 
those  subjoined,  which  contains  a  very  sufficient  exhi- 
bition of  his  sentiments. 

to  the  rev.  saimuel  j.  imay. 

"  Cambridge,  April  29,  1834. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  letter.     I  am  not  quite  sure  that  you 

will  wholly  acquiesce  in  my  views  and  feelings,  when  you  see 

me ;  but  I  think  we   shall  do  very  well  together,  though  I 

should  object  to  modes  of  expression,  at  least,  which  you  use. 


152  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

I  will  not  be  timid  or  temporizing  ;  but  I  will  try  to  be  inoffen- 
sive. Mr.  Sewall  has  written  to  propose,  that  you  should  lec- 
ture here  in  May ;  and  we  should  be  very  glad,  for  some  rea- 
sons, that  you  should  do  so ;  but,  on  the  whole,  we  feel  that  it 
will  be  best  for  the  cause  in  this  place,  where  it  is  new,  that 
we  feel  our  way  amongst  ourselves  at  first.  This  will  be 
much  safer  than  to  attempt  anything  by  addresses  from  any 
extraneous  Society.  It  is,  you  know,  the  great  misfortune  of 
this  cause,  that  it  has  been  so  advocated  by  some,  as  to  preju- 
dice the  community  against  it.  This  prejudice  adheres  to  the 
very  name  of  Society;  and  we  feel  that  we  must  privately 
remove  that,  before  any  agent  of  the  Society  can  be  listened 
to  with  good  effect. 

"  I  hope  you  will  see  the  propriety  of  taking  this  ground 
here..     I  hope  to  see  you  when  you  are  in  this  vicinity." 

to  the  same. 

"  Cambridge,  October  15,  1834. 
"  One  point,  on  which  I  wished  to  talk  with  you  when  here, 
was,  the  character  of  '  The  Liberator.'  If  you  sympathize 
with  it,  and  approve  wholly  of  its  spirit,  it  would  be  in  vain  to 
say  to  you  what  I  wish.  But,  if  not,  if  you  feel  how  objec- 
tionable is  its  tone,  how  frequently  unchristian  its  spirit,  and 
how  seriously  it  prejudices  a  great  cause  in  the  minds  of 
many  good  men  ;  then  you  will  be  ready  to  hear  my  question, 
— a  question  which  has  been  agitated  amongst  a  few  of  us 
here,  viz.:  — Would  it  not  be  possible  to  induce  six  or  seven 
gentlemen,  of  calm  and  trustworthy  judgment,  to  form  them- 
selves into  a  committee,  each  of  whom  should,  a  week  at  a 
time,  examine  all  articles  intended  for  '  The  Liberator,'  and 
induce  Mr.  Garrison  to  promise  to  publish  nothing  there,  which 
should  not  have  been  approved  by  them  ?  Is  this  possible  ? 
Would  it  not  secure  an  unexceptionable  paper,  without  injuring 
Mr.  Garrison's  interest?     Would  you  be  willing  to  aid  in  pro- 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  153 

motin^  such  a  scheme,— or  can  you  suggest  a  better  ?     Pray 
answer  these  questions  at  your  first  convenience. 

"  Dr.  Channing  is  said  to  have  given  on  Sunday  a  most 
powerful  sermon  on  the  subject  of  the  late  public  commotions 
at  Charlestown,  New  York,  and  Harvard  College.  According 
to  Dr.  Follen,  his  views  on  Slavery  were  so  strongly  favorable 
to  the  Emancipationists,  as  to  make  me  wonder  at  what  you 
told  me  of  his  interview  with  Mr.  Abdy.  Dr.  Follen  calls  it 
an  Abolition  Sermon.'^ 

TO    A   FRIEND. 
[In  answer  to  a  lefter  of  inquiry  and  remonstrance.] 

"  Cambridge,  October  23,  1835. 
"  Your  letter  is  very  kind,  and  I  do  not  know  what 


means  by  calling  it  impudent.  I  am  sure  I  thank  you  for  it, 
though  I  do  not  see  that  any  good  can  come  of  it.  I  have  not 
seen  the  papers  to  Avhich  you  refer,  but  they  certainly  err  in 
saying  that  I  am  an  officer  of  '  The  Middlesex  Anti-Slavery 
Society.'  I  did  not  know  that  there  was  such  a  body.  But 
it  would  be  of  no  use  to  say  so,  for  I  am,  or  have  been,  an 
officer  of '  The  Cambridge  Anti-Slavery  Society.'  I  am  sorry 
that  you,  or  any  of  my  friends,  should  feel  any  uneasiness  on 
this  score ;  and  you  would  not,  if  the  truth  were  known ; 
which  cannot  be,  in  the  time  of  public  madness,  from  news- 
papers. One  must  submit  to  whatever  they  choose  to  say. 
Why  they  so  eagerly  pounce  upon  poor  me,  I  do  not  know.  If 
for  the  sake  of  injuring  the  College,  and  if  the  friends  of  the 
College  think  it  thus  injured,  it  will  be  very  easy  to  give  me  a 
hint  of  it,  and  I  can  stand  out  of  the  way.  For,  though  you 
may  be  made  to  see  the  truth,  the  pubhc  cannot,  so  long  as 
newspapers  are  what  they  are. 

*'  But  what  is  the  truth  ? 

"  I,  long  ago,  like  other  men,  became  interested  in  the  sub- 
ject of  Slavery,  and  read  and  thought  a  great  deal  about  it.  I 
became  persuaded  that  the  dreadful  evil  never  could  be  got  rid 


154  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

of,  unless  it  were  so  all  at  once,  and  by  the  force  of  public 
opinion.  So  far,  I  was  an  Abolitionist,  and  am  still.  When 
I  saw  how  outrageously  Garrison  and  some  others  were  abus- 
ing this  great  cause,  mismanaging  it  by  their  unreasonable 
violence,  and  by  what  I  thought  unchristian  language,  and  a 
convention  was  proposed  in  Massachusetts,  I  joined  a  few  gen- 
tlemen in  Cambridge,  in  an  association  for  the  purpose  of 
inquiring  whether  something  might  not  be  done  to  moderate 
the  tone  they  were  using,  and  prevent  the  mischief  which  we 
thought  likely  to  ensue.  AVe  were  foolish  enough  to  imagine, 
that  we  might  possibly  exert  some  favorable  influence.  We 
attempted  it,  and  of  course  we  failed ;  for  all  who  know  Mr. 
Garrison,  know  that  he  is  not  a  man  to  be  controlled  or  ad- 
vised. Our  Society  lived  about  a  year,  and  has  now  virtually 
expired.  I  never  belonged  to  any  other.  I  have  attended  but 
four  Anti-Slavery  meetings,  three  in  Boston,  and  one  in  Cam- 
bridge. I  never  had  any  acquaintance  with  Thompson,  who, 
I  thought,  had  no  business  in  the  country ;  only  a  speaking 
acquaintance  with  Garrison ;  and  I  was  never  in  the  Anti- 
Slavery  rooms  but  once. 

"  So  that,  you  see,  I  am  not  a  very  active  and  powerful 
agitator  after  all ;  and  it  is  ridiculous  to  think  that  so  poor  a 
tool  as  I,  should  be  one  of  those  selected  for  the  thunders  of 
the  press.  The  redoubtable  editors  would  be  quite  crest-fallen, 
if  they  should  find  on  what  a  nothingarian  they  have  wasted 
their  valor  and  decorum. 

"You  ask  me,  why  not  set  them  right?  For  two  very 
good  reasons.  1.  I  am  in  principle  an  Abolitionist.  I  see  no 
other  principle  that  can  consist  with  Christianity  or  good 
policy  ;  and,  much  as  I  disapprove  a  great  part  of  the  doings  of 
the  Abolitionists,  so  long  as  I  maintain  their  great  principle,  I 
shall  be  held  just  as  guilty.  2.  I  cannot  bear  the  execrable 
tyranny  of  public  opinion,  and  of  the  newspaper  press,  which 
is  now  exerted  to  put  down  all  freedom  of  thought  and  opinion 
on  this  subject.     It  is  perfectly  execrable  and  detestable,  and 


JR.  155 

ought  to  be  resisted.     I  cannot,  even  in  appearance,  yield  to 
it,  though  by  so  doing  I  should  save  reputation  and  life. 

"  And,  after  all,  no  harm  is  done.  This  madness  is  tempo- 
rary, and  will  pass  away,  and  people  will  come  to  their  senses. 
Meanwhile,  I  keep  mine  through  all  the  bustle,  and  advise 
you  to  do  the  same." 

It  would  seem  as  if  this  letter  does  not  confirm,  as  to 
one  point,  the  view  which  I  have  taken  of  my  brother's 
sentiments,  namely,  where  he  speaks  of  the  evil  of 
slavery  as  one  to  be  removed  "  all  at  once,  and  by  the 
force  of  public  opinion."  Still,  I  have  preferred  to 
leave  the  statement  as  it  was  originally  made,  since  I 
am  confident  that  his  general  habit  of  thought  on  such 
subjects  is  correctly  represented ;  and,  although  he 
might  have  believed  that  Emancipation  must  be  an 
immediate  and  not  a  gradual  process,  he  could  hardly 
have  imagined  that  the  state  of  public  opinion,  through- 
out the  whole  country,  which  must  precede  such  a 
measure,  could  be  the  result  of  anything  less  than  a 
persevering  and  long-continued  eflbrt  to  enlighten  it. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

PUBLISHES  A  SELECTION  FROM  THE  WRITINGS,  WITH  "  THE  LIFE 
AND  CHARACTER,"  OF  DR.  PRIESTLEY  — LIMITED  SUPPLY  OF  MIN- 
ISTERS, AND  PLAN  FOR  THEIR  INCREASE  — FAMILY  MEETING  AT 
HIS  father's — RELIGIOUS  EXERCISES  WITH  THE  UNDERGRADUATES 
— "  SOBER  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  STATE  OF  THE  TIMES"  —  SEVERE  ILL- 
NESS IN  THE  WINTER  OF  183G  — HIS  OCCUPATIONS  DURING  IT  — 
AFFECTION,    AND   LOSS    OF    THE    USE,    OF    HIS    EYES. 

1835-1836.     -ZET.  41-42. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1835,  he  made  a  ^'  Selection 
from  the  Writings  of  Dr.  Priestley,'^  which  he  pubhshed, 
prefixing  to  the  volume  a  notice  of  his  Life  and  Char- 
acter, written  by  himself.  There  is  no  name  among 
Unitarians  which  has  been  so  uniformly  assailed  with 
obloquy  and  reproach;  and  many,  indeed,  of  his  own 
denomination,  have  been  willing  to  shake  off  from 
themselves  the  unpopularity  which  attaches  to  his 
character,  by  disclaiming  him  as  a  fair  representative 
of  their  opinions,  or  properly  as  a  member  of  their 
body.  With  many  of  the  opinions  of  this  writer,  on 
the  doctrines  of  religion,  the  Editor  sympathized  very 
little,  as  little  as  any  of  his  brethren ;  but  his  object  in 
this  work  was  partly  to  lay  before  the  public  a  collec- 
tion of  writings,  in  themselves  valuable  as  the  produc- 
tions of  a  pious  and  religious  man,  and  partly,  also,  to 
do  something  towards  placing  in  its  true  light  the  char- 
acter of  a  man  so  much  traduced,  of  one,  to  whose 
purity  of  life,  strict  integrity,  unsurpassed  sincerity  in 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  157 

the  pursuit  of  truth,  and  personal  piety,  even  some  of 
his  most  decided  theological  opponents  have  paid  a 
willing  tribute. 

In  the  course  of  this  year,  also,  his  attention  was 
specially  turned  to  the  subject  of  the  preparation  of 
young  men  for  the  ministry,  whose  pecuniary  means, 
or  whose  deficiencies  in  early  education,  did  not  make 
it  expedient  for  them  to  join  the  School  at  Cambridge. 
The  number  of  preachers  annually  sent  out  by  this  In- 
stitution was  smaller  than  the  public  required.  There 
was  frequently  a  difficulty  in  supplying  the  demands, 
made  by  newly-formed  or  by  vacant  parishes.  In  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  country,  many  new  Unitarian  Socie- 
ties were  springing  up  spontaneously,  some  of  them  in 
small  and  remote  communities ;  many  attempts  were 
made  to  form  such  Societies,  which  proved  in  the  end 
abortive;  and  many  were  ultimately  successful  only  after 
a  long  and  painful  struggle.  Hence  there  was  a  demand 
for  preachers  beyond  the  usual  supply,  and,  from  the 
character  and  condition  of  many  of  the  Societies,  for 
preachers  whose  education,  and  habits,  and  views  in 
life  would  render  them  willing  to  labor  in  a  narrow 
sphere,  and  for  a  small  compensation.  The  condition  and 
wants  of  many  of  these  parishes,  and  their  increasing 
number,  had  often  been  brought  to  Mr.  Ware's  notice, 
as  he  was  the  person  most  frequently  applied  to  for 
advice,  encouragement,  and  assistance.  His  mind  was 
thus  naturally  turned  to  the  consideration  of  means  for 
meeting  this  want,  by  increasing  the  number  of  stu- 
dents of  Divinity,  and  also  by  making  provision  for 
education  of  a  less  elevated  standard,  than  that  of  the 
Theological  School.  He  now  had  some  correspondence 
with  regard  to  a  plan  for  this  object ;  but  no  steps  were 

VOL.  II.  14 


158  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

taken  concerning  it  for  some  years  afterward,  though  it 
continued  to  occupy  his  attention. 

In  the  year  1837,  it  became  anew  a  subject  of  very 
serious  consideration,  and  several  meetings  were  held, 
at  which  a  regular  plan  of  operations  was  proposed  and 
discussed.  It  was  proposed  to  form  a  school  in  some 
country  town,  where  the  expense  of  living  would  be 
moderate,  for  the  education  of  lads  from  ten  to  twelve 
years  of  age  preparatory  to  their  becoming  students  of 
divinity,  some  of  them  to  be  carried  through  College 
and  through  the  Divinity  School,  and  some  to  be  trained 
for  the  ministry  without  a  public  education.  This 
school  was  to  be  under  the  direction  of  a  clergyman,  at 
the  same  time  the  pastor  of  a  parish,  who  was  also  to 
have  under  his  charge  young  men,  who  were  preparing 
for  the  pulpit.  Circulars  were  issued,  requesting  the 
opinion  of  various  persons  on  the  plan,  and  making 
inquiries  for  suitable  pupils  for  such  an  establishment. 
The  answers  received  were  of  the  most  satisfactory 
kind,  admitting  the  necessity  of  the  thing,  approving 
the  plan,  and,  in  many  cases,  pointing  out  a  considera- 
ble number  of  pupils.  After  a  good  deal  of  inquiry  and 
discussion,  the  project  was  dropped  for  the  time,  not 
from  want  of  friends  or  of  means  to  carry  it  on,  but 
chiefly  because  no  suitable  person  or  place  could  be 
readily  found.  It  has,  however,  never  been  lost  sight 
of;  and  recently  an  institution,  having  the  same  gen- 
eral object  in  view,  has  been  established  at  Meadville, 
in  Pennsylvania. 

Another  subject,  somewhat  akin  to  this,  and  one 
which  occupied  his  thoughts  a  great  deal,  was  that  of 
the  connexion  of  the  Divinity  School  with  the  Univer- 
sity.  In  common  with  mainy  friends  of  both  Institutions, 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  159 

he  had  great  doubts  of  the  propriety  and  expediency  of 
this  connexion ;  and  at  several  times  he  made  exertions 
with  the  purpose  of  bringing  about  a  separation.  He 
was,  I  beheve,  after  very  mature  consideration  and 
much  communication  with  others  equally  interested  in 
the  cause  of  Theological  Education,  very  clearly  of  the 
opinion,  that  the  prosperity  both  of  the  College  and  of 
the  School  would  be  promoted  by  this  measure ;  that, 
although  some  literary  advantages  unquestionably  arose 
from  the  vicinity  of  the  School  to  a  great  learned  insti- 
tution, yet  that  unfavorable  influences  on  the  manners, 
character,  modes  of  living,  and  views  in  life,  of  the  stu- 
dents, more  than  counterbalanced  them.  As  far  back 
as  the  year  1823,  I  find  that  his  attention  had  been 
called  to  this  subject,  and  he  committed  to  paper  some 
hints  relating  to  it ;  for  what  use,  if  for  any  except  his 
own  satisfaction,  does  not  appear.  It  continued  to 
occupy  much  of  his  attention,  and,  indeed,  to  the  very 
close  of  his  professorship,  the  Avants,  prospects,  and 
interests  of  the  Theological  School  and  of  Theological 
Education,  were  among  the  principal  subjects  of  his 
thoughts,  and  he  never  ceased  to  labor,  and  induce 
others  to  labor,,  in  the  cause. 

During  the  year  1835,  with  a  few  slight  exceptions, 
his  health  was  tolerably  good;  at  least  it  was  such, 
that  he  was  seldom  prevented  from  attention  to  his 
customary  occupations.  In  the  month  of  March,  he 
was  taken  sick  at  Providence,  on  his  way  to  visit  his 
brother  in  New  York,  (avIio  had  just  experienced  a 
severe  domestic  calamity.)  and  was  unable  to  proceed. 
This  did  not,  however,  prove  a  continued  sickness,  and 
want  of  time  alone  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  return 


160 


home  without  accompUshiiig  his  object.     On  this  occa- 
sion he  wrote  to  his  brother  thus : 

"  Cambridge,  March  2S,  1835. 

"  Trouble  is  hardly  so  familiar  a  thing  to  you,  as  it  is  to 
me  ;  and,  if  it  has  not  made  me  insensible,  it  will  help  me  to 
sympathize.  I  recollect  your  remarking,  in  a  letter  some  time 
since,  on  your  long  continued  prosperity,  as  if  you  looked  on 
it  with  a  sort  of  apprehension,  and  as  if  you  could  hardly  hope 
to  be  saved,  you  said,  without  some  of  the  discipline  of  adver- 
sity. 1  sometimes  feel,  that,  with  all  that  I  have  had,  I  am  still 
needing  some  discipline  to  reach  a  spot  which  has  never  yet 
been  reached,  and  to  wake  me  up  to  the  life  which  I  ought  to 
live.  But,  in  either  of  our  cases,  it  is  not  because  Providence 
has  not  given  us  a  wise  and  appropriate  discipline,  but  because 
we  have  failed  to  make  the  best  of  it,  that  we  are  still  so  far 
from  the  mark. 

"  It  is  in  vain  to  ask  or  to  receive  the  visitations  of  Heaven, 
unless  we  sedulously  labor  to  improve  them  ;  and  that  is  not 
altogether  an  easy  thing  at  all  times.  We  are  too  apt  to  fancy, 
that  they  will  do  their  w^ork  by  their  own  inherent  power. 
May  you  have  more  wisdom  in  using  your  afflictions  than  I 
have  had,  and  so  prevent  the  necessity  of  their  being  repeated 
to  you.  It  is  not  difficult  to  find  consolation  during  trial. 
The  religious  sentiments  excited  by  it  are  so  full  of  hope  and 
peace  and  delight,  that  they  lead  to  great  enjoyment  of  mind, 
and  help  to  make  us  specially  acquiescent  and  happy.  But 
to  apply  the  discipline  to  a  permanent  improvement  of  our 
hearts  and  habits,  is  less  easy.  I  hardly  know  how  I  have 
fallen  into  this  strain  ;  perhaps  it  is  not  that  which  you  will 
most  readily  receive." 

In  the  summer  of  this  year,  his  domestic  affections, 
always  of  the  most  tender  character,  and  embracing  not 
merely  those  who  surrounded  his  OAvn  fireside,  but  all 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  161 

the  members  of  that  wide  circle  with  which  he  was 
connected  by  the  ties  of  kindred,  were  highly  gratified 
by  the  happy  accomplishment  of  a  plan,  which  he  had 
much  at  heart,  for  assembling  them  in  a  family  meeting 
to  be  held  at  his  father's  house  in  Cambridge.  An 
occasion  of  this  sort  is  not  one  in  which  those,  who  are 
not  immediately  concerned,  can  be  supposed  to  take 
any  particular  interest.  Its  chief  value  is  to  them  who 
partake  of  it ;  its  chief  interest  is  in  the  hearts  of  them 
who  meet.  But  the  character  of  my  brother  was  never 
exhibited  in  a  more  engaging  light,  than  when  he  min- 
gled, in  a  familiar  and  unrestrained  manner,  in  a  circle 
like  this ;  and  never,  probably,  in  his  whole  life,  was 
his  heart  more  entirely  full  of  filial,  fraternal,  and 
paternal  love,  than  on  the  day  of  this  meeting.  It  took 
place  on  the  20th  of  August,  1835.  Four  daughters 
with  their  husbands ;  three  sons  with  their  wives ;  three 
unmarried  daughters  and  three  unmarried  sons,  with 
twenty-seven  grandchildren,  assembled  and  spent  the 
day  together.  On  coming  together  in  the  morning,  the 
patriarch  of  the  day  was  saluted,  by  the  eldest  of  his 
grandchildren,  with  the  recitation  of  the  following 
verses,  from  the  pen  of  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Hall. 

"  We  are  coming  !  we  are  coming  ! 
What  a  merry  host  we  are  ! 
Laughing,  shouting,  singing,  drumming, 
We  are  coming.  Grandpapa  ! 

"  Here  are  Henrys,  by  the  dozen, 
Here  are  Marys,  half  a  score  ! 
Brother,  sister,  aunt,  and  cousin, 
We  are  coming, — many  more  ! 

*'  We  are  coming  !  Willies,  Lucys, 
Annes,  and  Lizzies,  two  and  two  ; 
VOL.  n.  14=* 


162 


JR. 


Frank  and  Robert,  little  gooses, 
We  can  find  no  mates  for  you. 

*'  We  are  coming  !  Edwards,  Johnnys, 
Harriet,  Jairus,  George,  Louise, 
Prentiss,  too,  without  their  cronies. 
All  are  coming,— what  a  squeeze ! 

"  We  are  coming  !  don't  you  hear  us? 
What  a  glorious  noise  we  make ! 
Grandmamma,  you  well  may  fear  us, 
With  your  lemonade  and  cake ! 

"  We  are  coming  !  O  believe  us, 
Happy,  joyful,  glad  we  are ! 
In  your  open  arms  receive  us 

With  your  blessing,  Grandpapa!" 

Amounting,  with  a  few  other  relatives,  to  fifty-two  in 
number,  they  dined  together  in  one  room ;  of  all  ages, 
from  the  old  man  of  seventy-one,  to  the  infant  a  few 
months  old.  After  dinner  the  present  of  a  comfortable 
arm-chair  was  made  to  each  of  the  parents  of  this 
group,  by  the  whole  company,  and  the  remamder  of 
the  day  and  evening  were  spent  in  amusements  and 
recreations,  suited  to  the  various  tastes  of  the  party.  It 
was  remarkable,  that  of  so  numerous  a  family,  the 
members  of  which  were  widely  scattered,  and  of  such 
various  ages,  not  one  was  absent ;  and  of  all  this  col- 
lection there  were  probably  none,  of  an  age  capable  of 
receiving  impressions,  who  did  not  feel  that  they  owed 
much,  very  much,  to  the  subject  of  this  Memoir,  for 
wise  and  timely  counsels,  for  kind  and  brotherly  encour- 
agement, and  perhaps  for  reproof  not  less  kind  and  bro- 
therly ;  and,  more  than  all,  for  support  and  comfort  in 
trial  and  affliction,  and  for  confirming  religious  faith, 
and  brightening  religious  hope. 


163 

These  lines  were  composed  by  him  to  be  sung  after 
dinner. 

"  Children's  children  are  the  cro\vn  of  old  men, 
And  the  glory  of  children  are  their  fathera." 

*'  In  this  glad  hour  when  children  meet, 

And  home  with  them  their  children  bring, 
Oiir  hearts  with  one  affection  beat, 
One  song  of  praise  our  voices  sing-. 

"  For  all  the  faithful,  loved,  and  dear, 

Whom  thou  so  kindly,  Lord,  hast  given; 
For  those  who  still  are  with  us  here. 
And  those  who  wait  for  us  in  heaven  ; 

"  For  every  past  and  present  joy  ; 

For  honor,  competence,  and  health  ; 
For  hopes  that  time  may  not  destroy, 
Our  souls'  imperishable  wealth  ; — 

"  For  all,  accept  our  humble  praise  ; 
Still  bless  us.  Father,  by  thy  love  ; 
And,  when  are  closed  our  mortal  days, 
Unite  us  in  one  home  above.-' 

I  must  add,  that  to  no  one,  among  all  those  who  were 
gathered  together,  was  this  an  occasion  of  more  deep 
and  heartfelt  delight,  than  to  the  venerable  head  of  the 
household,  then  in  his  seventy-second  year,  in  the  midst 
of  a  vigorous  old  age,  his  body  unimpaired,  his  mind 
unclouded,  and,  above  all,  his  heart  warming,  as  it  ever 
had  done,  to  all  the  charities  of  life,  and  yielding  as 
readily  to  all  the  tender  and  holy  sympathies  of  our 
nature.  It  was  no  common  satisfaction,  to  see  flocking 
around  him  so  many  descendants,  all  prosperous  in 
their  lives,  respectable  in  their  characters,  and  happy 
in  their  families ;  two  sons,  and  three  husbands  of  his 
daughters,  engaged  heartily,  honorably,  and  usefully  in 


164  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

the  same  work,  to  which  his  many  years  had  been 
dev^oted.  to  which  he  had  led  them,  and  for  which  he 
had  helped  to  prepare  them ;  all  looking  to  him  as  one 
to  whom  they  owed  much,  under  Providence,  of  what- 
ever was  worthy  and  valuable  in  their  lives.  It  was 
an  occasion  which  none  who  were  engaged  in  it  can 
ever  forget ;  and  it  left  a  lasting  impression  upon  all 
their  minds,  of  the  good  and  happy  influence  upon  life 
which  may  be  made  to  flow  from  the  maintenance  and 
cultivation  of  the  domestic  aflections. 

Mr.  Ware's  attention  was,  during  this  year,  directed 
particularly  to  the  religious  condition  of  the  Under- 
graduates, wdth  a  view  to  increasing  their  own  interest 
in  it.  This  subject,  indeed,  occupied  his  thoughts  a 
great  deal  during  the  whole  period  of  his  connexion 
with  the  University.  With  the  exception  of  morning 
and  evening  prayers,  and  the  preaching  in  the  Chapel 
on  Sunday,  direct  attempts  were  rarely  made  by  any 
instructor  to  exert  a  religious  influence  on  the  pupils. 
This,  however,  was  not  the  result  of  neglect  or  indiffer- 
ence. Interference  on  this  point  had  been  purposely 
abstained  from,  by  those  to  whom  such  a  duty  would 
naturally  have  fallen,  lest  some  color  might  in  this  way 
be  given  to  the  oft  reiterated  charges  against  the  Col- 
lege, that  it  exercised  an  influence  on  the  Undergrad- 
uates favorable  to  that  particular  sect  to  which  most 
of  those  concerned  in  its  government  and  instruction 
belonged.  On  this  point  he  differed  from  his  colleagues, 
and,  among  the  rest,  from  his  father;  but,  governed 
only  by  his  own  sense  of  what  he  thought  right,  he,  in 
conjunction  with  Dr.  Palfrey,  made  an  attempt  to  inter- 
est the  Undergraduates.  He  invited  them,  generally, 
to  meet  him  on  Sunday  mornings  before  service,  and 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  165 

engage  in  conversation  on  religious  subjects,  desiring 
them  to  state  freely  their  views,  feelings,  and  opinions. 
He  usually  began  with  a  short  extemporaneous  address 
upon  some  particular  topic,  gradually  bringing  their 
minds  to  bear  upon  it,  and  then  encouraging  them  to  a 
free  and  familiar  expression  of  their  own  thoughts. 

These  meetings  excited  a  satisfactory  degree  of  inter- 
est among  a  considerable  number  of  the  young  men, 
and  were  also  attended  by  some  of  the  junior  officers 
of  the  College.  A  most  salutary  influence  was  exerted 
on  the  minds  of  many  of  those  who  were  present ;  and, 
on  some,  the  impressions  made  were  of  so  serious  a 
kind,  as  to  produce  a  permanent  change  of  character, 
and  lead  them  to  select  the  ministry  as  their  profession. 
There  are  no  means  of  knowing  how  long  he  perse- 
vered in  this  plan.  His  numerous  other  engagements, 
his  burdensome  duties,  especially  the  necessity  of 
preaching  on  the  Sabbath,  either  in  the  Chapel  or 
abroad,  combined  with  his  frequent  indisposition,  at 
length  rendered  its  regular  contipuance  impracticable; 
and  every  one  knows  how  certainly  irregularity  in  mat- 
ters of  this  sort  ensures  their  being  at  last  given  up. 
He  was  so  well  satisfied,  hovv^ever,  with  the  result  of 
his  first  attempt,  that  he  felt  courage  in  a  subsequent 
year  to  renew  it ;  but  the  causes  referred  to  rendered  its 
continuance,  as  a  permanent  exercise,  quite  impossible. 

In  October  of  this  year,  he  published  without  his 
name  a' pamphlet,  entitled,  '-Sober  Thoughts  on  the 
State  of  the  Times,  addressed  to  the  Unitarian  Com- 
munity." It  was  not  however  strictly  anonymous,  the 
authorship  being  not  only  immediately  suspected,  but 
soon  known.  The  object  of  this  tract  Avas  to  draw  the 
attention  of  his  brethren,  both  clergy  and  laity,  to  the 


166  LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE.    JR. 

religions  aspect  of  the  times,  as  it  regarded  especially 
their  own  body,  their  relation  to  other  sects,  and  the 
duties  growing  out  of  their  peculiar  position.  The  time 
at  which  he  wrote  was  in  his  view  a  period  of  rest  after 
a  long  controversial  contest ;  a  contest  which  had  begun 
with  the  memorable  passage  between  Drs.  Worcester 
and  Channing  in  the  year  1S15,  and  had  continued, 
with  little  intermission,  for  the  space  of  twenty  years. 
And  now,  as  it  appeared,  the  combatants  in  this  war- 
fare had  stopped  to  breathe. 

"  This,  then,"  he  says,  "  is  the  present  aspect  of  our  reli- 
gious affairs.  We  have  discussed  with  our  differing  brethren 
the  doctrines  respecting  which  we  differed,  and  the  questions 
are  at  rest.  The  result  is,  we  are  a  community  ly  ourselves. 
When  we  began  the  debate,  we  were  members  of  the  general 
congregational  body,  communicants  at  the  same  tables,  and 
sheep  under  the  same  shepherds.  (I  speak  in  general  terms.) 
Now  a  separation  has  taken  place.  We  have  our  own  con- 
gregations, our  own  ministers,  our  own  institutions  and  instru- 
ments of  religious  improvement.  It  is  a  crisis  of  unspeakable 
interest  to  us.  We  are  deeply  concerned  to  know  what  is  the 
character  and  power  of  those  institutions,  what  the  nature  and 
operation  of  our  distinctive  faith,  and  how  far  we  are  faithful 
representatives,  advocates,  stewards,  of  that  pure  and  glorious 
Gospel,  on  whose  behalf  we  have  been  allowed  to  contend." 

He  proceeds  then  to  pass  in  review  the  character  of 
the  Unitarian  community, — the  principles  of  truth  and 
duty  which  it  assumes  as  fundamental  to  its  existence, 
— the  Idea  of  Unitarianism.  He  next  inquires  how  far  its 
character  conforms  to  or  is  a  fair  representation  of  this 
idea;  whether  the  institutions  of  religion  are  faithfully 
supported ;  whether  there  is  a  proper  practical  appre- 


JR.  167 

hension  of  what  are  the  requisitions  of  reUgion ;  and  he 
refers  strongly  to  some  prevalent  and  lamentable  defi- 
ciencies in  these  respects.  He  speaks  of  the  stand- 
ard of  life,  which  the  denomination  should  adopt,  and 
by  which  they  should  live ;  and,  above  all,  he  lifts  a 
voice  of  warning  against  a  low  and  lax  onC;  as  not  only 
false  in  itself,  but  even  impolitic  and  inexpedient  as  to 
its  eifects  on  the  success  and  standing  of  a  sect.  The 
whole  constitutes  an  earnest  appeal  to  Unitarians  to  be 
true  to  the  great  principles  of  the  Reformation,  to  which 
they  believe  themselves  more  faithfully  devoted  than 
other  Christians,  and  not  to  fail  in  their  duty  of  carry- 
ing out  in  their  lives  the  truth  for  which  they  have  been 
so  earnestly  contending. 

He  was  also  interested  about  the  same  period,  as  one 
of  a  Committee  of  the  Massachusetts  Peace  Society,  in 
setting  on  foot  a  course  of  Lectures  on  subjects  con- 
nected with  the  great  objects  of  their  association.  The 
nature  of  the  plan  will  be  seen  in  the  following  sketch 
of  the  subjects  proposed  to  be  treated.  But.  the  course 
was  not  given  till  a  few  years  afterwards. 

''  1.  The  Moral  Character  of  War. 

'•'  2.  The  Bearing  of  the  Doctrines  of  Political  Econ- 
omy on  the  Subjects  of  Peace  and  War. 

"3.  The  Advocates  of  War  answered. 

"  4.  The  Circumstances  which  show  a  Tendency 
toward  its  Abolition. 

"5.  The  Means  by  which  its  Abolition  is  to  be 
effected. 

"6.  Substitutes  for  War. 

'•  7.  The  Relations  and  Duties  of  Free  Govern- 
ments." 


168  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE.    JR.  * 

He  was  laid  up  in  the  early  part  of  the  year  1836  by 
a  long  and  severe  fit  of  sickness,  of  the  same  general 
character  with  that  which  had  disabled  him  in  1828, 
and  which  made  still  farther  inroads  on  his  already 
shattered  constitution.  He  Avas  attacked,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  February,  with  inflammation  of  the  lungs, 
attended  by  repeated  and  continued  hemorrhages  in 
small  quantities,  which  confined  him  to  his  room  for 
eight  weeks,  and  left  him  unable  to  return  to  his  usual 
exercises  in  the  Divinity  School  for  some  months.  He 
did  not  resume  preaching  until  July.-  Though  he  was 
greatly  reduced  in  strength  and  flesh  by  this  ilhiess,  and 
never,  probably,  recovered  entirely  from  its  eff'ecls,  it 
was  not  attended  with  much  pain  or  suffering,  except 
that  which  may  arise  from  mere  debility;  and  he 
retained  his  cheerfulness  and  animation  of  spirits 
through  the  greater  part  of  the  time. 

He  had  indeed  a  strong  presentiment  that  he  should 
not  recover ;  but  this  feehng  was  not  accompanied  by 
anything  like  gloom  or  depression.  On  the  contrary, 
the  probabflity  of  such  an  event  was  the  subject  of  free 
conversation,  which  was  always  of  a  cheerful  and 
elevated  character.  There  remained  for  a  long  time  a 
good  deal  of  doubt,  even  after  some  gradual  improve- 
ment in  his  condition,  whether  his  case  were  not  about 
to  terminate  in  a  chronic  and  fatal  disease  of  the  lungs ; 
and,  during  his  slow  recovery,  his  mind,  escaping  as  it 
were  from  the  grasp  of  those  more  serious  interests 
which  had  engrossed  it  for  so  many  years,  seemed  to  go 
backward  and  yield  itself  to  that  strong  love  of  poetry 
and  poetical  composition,  Avhich  had  been  one  of  its 
predominant  tendencies  in  early  life.  Apparently  as 
the  direct  consequence  of  reading  a  newspaper  in  bed. 


LIFE   OF    HENRY    WARE.    JR.  169 

while  his  wife  was  out  of  the  room,  he  began  to  suffer 
at  this  time  from  a  painful  affection  of  the  eyes,  which 
rendered  all  use  of  them  impossible,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  depend  entirely  on  others  for  reading  and  writing. 
He  accordingly  dictated  to  his  wife,  or  wrote  with  a 
pencil  in  bed  with  his  eyes  closed,  and  in  this  way 
went  on  with  his  poem  of  "  The  Dream  of  Life,'' 
to  which  allusion  has  before  been  made,  and  com- 
posed, beside,  several  short  pieces.  At  the  same  time 
he  was  desirous  of  hearing  poetry  read,  particularly 
that  of  a  religious  and  devotional  character.  He  was 
especially  engaged  in  the  subject  of  Lyric  Poetry,  and 
not  only  so  in  poetical  productions  of  this  kind,  but 
he  also  sought  out  works  on  its  history  and  criticism. 
He  became  indeed  so  much  interested,  that  he  collected 
materials  for,  and  made  some  considerable  progress  in, 
the  preparation  of  Essays  on  English  Lyric  Poetry. 

Of  some  of  the  tendencies  of  his  thoughts,  while  thus 
gathering  his  strength  through  the  days  of  a  tedious 
convalescence,  necessarily  cut  off  much  of  the  time  from 
that  refuge  in  books  and  writing  to  which  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  fly,  the  following  verses,  composed  at 
this  period,  give  indication.  They  serve  to  show,  that, 
however  strong  might  be  his  hope  and  faith,  and  how- 
ever readily  and  cheerfully  he  might  contemplate  the 
not  improbable  result  of  his  disease,  this  state  of  mind 
was  fomided  on  no  confident  or  presumptuous  estimate 
of  his  own  merits,  or  any  undue  reliance  upon  them  for 
acceptance  after  death.  The  comparison  which  he 
drew  within  himself,— one  which  I  beheve  he  was 
always  drawing,— between  the  judgment  of  his  char- 
acter and  services  formed  by  the  world,  and  his  own 
perception  of  what  he  ought  to  have  been  and  ought  to 

VOL.  II.  15 


170  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

have  done, — ending,  as  it  often  did,  in  a  painful  and 
humiliating  sense  of  unworthiness, — was  too  uniform 
through  life,  and  too  indirect  in  its  manifestations,  to 
be  the  result  of  anything  but  the  most  entire  sincerity 
and  severe  self-examination. 

"  In  Sickness.    March,  1826. 

"  Father,  thy  gentle  chastisement 

Falls  kindly  on  my  burdened  soul ; 
I  see  its  merciful  intent 

To  warn  me  back  to  thy  control, 
And  pray,  that,  while  I  kiss  the  rod, 
I  may  find  perfect  peace  with  God. 

•'  The  errors  of  my  heart  I  know ; 

I  feel  my  deep  infirmities  ; 
For  often  virtuous  feelings  glow, 

And  holy  purposes  arise, 
But  like  the  morning  clouds  decay, 
As  empty,  though  as  fair,  as  they. 

"  Forgive  the  weakness  I  deplore  ; 

And  let  thy  grace  abound  in  me, 
That  I  may  trust  my  heart  no  more. 

But  wholly  cast  myself  on  thee  ; 
Oh,  let  my  Father's  strength  be  mine, 
And  my  devoted  life  be  thine  !" 

Lines  written  March  29,  1836. 

"  It  is  not  what  my  hands  have  done, 

That  weighs  my  spirit  down, 
That  casts  a  shadow  o'er  the  sun, 

And  over  earth  a  frown  ; 
It  is  not  any  heinous  guilt, 

Or  vice  by  men  abhorred  ; 
For  fair  the  fame  that  I  have  built, 

A  fair  life's  just  reward  ; 


171 

And  men  would  wonder  if  they  knew 
How  sad  I  feel  with  sins  so  few. 

"  Alas,  they  only  see  in  part, 

When  thus  they  judge  the  whole  ; 
They  cannot  look  upon  the  heart, 

They  cannot  read  the  soul : 
But  I  survey  myself  within, 

And  mournfully  I  feel 
How  deep  the  principle  of  sin 

Its  root  may  there  conceal. 
And  spread  its  poison  through  the  frame, 
Without  a  deed  that  men  can  blame. 

"  They  judge  by  actions  which  they  see. 

Brought  out  before  the  sun  ; 
But  conscience  brings  reproach  to  me 

For  what  I  've  left  undone, — 
For  opportunities  of  good 

In  folly  thrown  away, 
For  hours  mis-spent  in  solitude, 

Forgetfulness  to  pray, — 
And  thousand  more  omitted  things. 
Whose  memory  fills  my  breast  with  stings. 

"  And  therefore  is  my  heart  oppressed 

With  thoughtfulness  and  gloom  ; 
Nor  can  I  hope  for  perfect  rest, 

Till  I  escape  this  doom. 
Help  me,  thou  Merciful  and  Just ! 

This  fearful  doom  to  fly  ; 
Thou  art  my  strength,  my  hope,  my  trust, — 

Oh  help  me,  lest  I  die  ! 
And  let  my  full  obedience  prove. 

The  perfect  power  of  faith  and  love." 

This  affection  of  the  eyes  continued  for  more  than  a 
year,  and  for  the  whole  of  this  period  he  was  unable  to 
read  or  to  write.     All  his  preparations  were  therefore 


172  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR- 

necessarily  made  Avith  the  assistance  of  others,  so  far  as 
reading  and  the  making  of  notes  were  concerned,  and 
his  exercises  in  the  Divinity  School  and  his  preaching 
were  consequently  extemporaneous.  He  now  found  a 
new  evidence  of  the  great  value  of  the  power  of  extem- 
poraneous speaking,  which  he  had  taken  so  much  pains 
to  acquire.  He  did  not  use  a  written  sermon  again  till 
the  ordination  of  Mr.  Bartol,  as  colleague  of  Dr.  Low^ell, 
in  Boston,  March  1st,  1837,  nor  aftervv'ard  till  he  gave 
the  Convention  sermon  in  May  of  the  same  year. 
After  this  time  his  eyes  were  restored  to  a  tolerable 
state,  though  they  never  regained  their  former  strength. 
It  does  not  appear,  that  preaching  extemporaneously 
served  to  diminish  the  labor  of  preparation ;  the  pains 
he  took  on  each  occasion  to  make  himself  familiar  with 
his  subject  consumed,  on  the  whole,  as  much  time  as 
would  have  been  required  to  write  out  the  discourse. 
And,  even  after  this  long  experience,  he  did  not  have 
recourse  to  it  more  frequently  than  before  his  illness. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

EXERTIONS  IN  AID  OF  POOR  AND  DESTITUTE  SOCIETIES— NEW 
DUTIES  AT  THE  UNIVERSITY  — HE  PROJECTS  A  COURSE  OF 
LECTURES  ON  "  THE  POETRY  OF  SCIENCE  "  —  PREACHES  THE  CON- 
VENTION SERMON  —  SERMON  ON  THE  CILLEY  DUEL  —  DEATH  OF  HIS 
SISTER,    MRS.  HALL. 

1836-38.     .ST.  42-44.    » 

His  health  after  this  last  illness  was  never  entirely  re- 
established, and,  through  the  whole  of  the  year  1836 
especially,  he  was  very  feeble,  and  hardly  competent  to 
the  exertion  required  by  his  labors  in  the  School.  In 
the  autumn  of  this  year,  he  complains,  in  one  of  his  let- 
ters, of  his  health,  a  rare  thing  for  him ;  yet  at  the  same 
time  he  was  engaged  sedulously  in  collecting  statistics 
of  poor  and  destitute  Societies,  with  the  view  of  having 
some  measures  taken  for  procuring  a  supply  of  their 
wants. 

In  consequence  of  facts  brought  to  light  by  this  in- 
quiry, an  effort  was  made,  under  the  direction  of  the 
American  Unitarian  Association,  to  raise  a  fund  for  the 
purpose;  and  Mr.  Ware  subscribed,  and  pledged  him- 
self in  some  way  to  procure,  five  hundred  dollars  to- 
wards it.  In  order  to  accomplish  this,  he  prepared  a 
discourse,  embodying  the  results  of  his  inquiries,  and 
stating  the  wants  which  existed  in  different  quarters. 
He  preached  it,  in  the  course  of  the  year  1837,  before  a 
number  of  congregations  in  various  parts  of  the  State, 

VOL.  II.  15^ 


174  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

making  a  collection  in  each  case  after  the  service.  In 
this  way  he  more  than  redeemed  his  pledge,  and  col- 
lected the  amount  of  six  hundred  and  ten  dollars. 

Encouraged  hy  his  success,  towards  the  close  of  the 
same  year  he  made  a  similar  effort  for  the  Evangelical 
Missionary  Society,  and  raised  for  them  the  still  larger 
sum  of  eight  hundred  and  twenty-four  dollars.  It  is 
right  to  say,  in  illustration  of  the  character  of  these 
labors,  that,  at  the  very  time  he  was  making  such 
extraordinary  exertions  to  procure  money  for  public 
objects,  his  own  income  from  his  professorship  was  so 
inadequate  to  the  support  of  his  family,  that  he  found 
it  necessary  to  imdertake  new  duties  at  the  University 
for  the  purpose  of  enlarging  it.* 

The  advanced  age  of  his  father,  but  more  particularly 
the  failure  of  his  sight  at  this  time,  began  to  render  it 
difficult  for  him  any  longer  to  conduct  the  exercises  of 
the  Undergraduates  in  Paley's  '-Evidences"  and  But- 
ler's ''Analogy;"  or  to  continue  to  serve  as  one  of  the 
preachers   in   the   Chapel.     These   duties   were  now, 

"=  In  a  letter  ^vritten  about  this  period,  he  thus  expresses  himself  on  this 
subject :  "  It  will  not  be  possible  for  me  to  continue  in  the  office  at  the  pres- 
ent salary.  I  have  very  reluctantly  brought  myself  to  say  this  ;  for  I  would 
both  be  and  seem  willing  to  labor  in  any  important  post  without  mercenary 
views,  and  even  at  some  sacrifice.  But,  after  trying  it  to  the  best  of  my  skill 
in  economy,  I  find  it  perfectly  impossible  to  live  here,  as  I  am  obliged  to  live, 
on  the  salary  I  receive.  No  professor  with  a  family  does  it,  or  can  do  it.  I 
have  spent  more,  everj^  year,  to  such  an  extent  that  I  have  been  obliged  to  con- 
sume a  large  part  of  what  I  had  laid  by  for  age  or  emergency  ;  and  have  been, 
so  far,  impoverished  by  my  office.  I  cannot  do  this  longer,  because,  by  the 
end  of  the  year,  I  shall  have  exhausted  my  funds. 

"  Meantime  my  constitution  is  so  far  reestablished,  that  I  am  now  capable 
of  occupying  a  station  which  may  demand  more  physical  strength,  and  I  have 
no  fear  of  returning  to  the  mode  of  life  from  which  I  was  taken  in  a  state  of 
debility.  For  the  kindness  shown  me  in  offering  me  this  retreat,  and  in  after- 
wards bearing  with  my  partial  and  interrupted  labors,  I  have  always  felt 
deeply  grateful." 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  176 

therefore,  transferred  to  his  son  with  a  portion  of  the 
salary,  whilst  the  father  merely  continued  his  connexion 
with  the  students  of  the  Divinity  School.  This  very 
materially  increased  the  burdensomeness  of  his  duties, 
not  merely  by  the  additional  amount  of  labor  he  was 
called  on  to  perform,  but  by  the  perplexing  variety  of 
occupations  to  which  he  was  consequently  subjected. 

But  all  this  did  not  tend  to  extinguish  his  love  of  ac- 
tive exertion ;  for  we  find  him,  about  the  same  period, 
engaged  in  several  other  undertakings.  In  the  fall  of 
1837,  he  began  a  voluntary  course  of  Lectures  to  the 
Theological  Students,  on  Moral  Philosophy.  How  far 
the  plan  was  pursued,  and  how  complete  his  instructions 
were  on  this  subject,  does  not  appear.  He  also  wrote 
the  poetry  for  an  Oratorio,  ''  The  Feast  of  Tabernacles," 
which  was  composed  by  Mr.  Charles  Zeuner,  and  per- 
formed at  the  Odeon,  in  Boston.  He  prepared,  also,  and 
delivered  before  many  audiences  in  Boston  and  else- 
where, a  Lecture  on  ''The  Poetry  of  Mathematics." 
The  success  of  this  production  was  so  considerable,  that 
it  was  suggested  to  him,  that  a  similar  mode  of  illustra- 
tion might  be  extended  to  other  branches  of  science,  and 
thus  an  attractive  and  instructive  course  of  Lectures  be 
given  on  "The  Poetry  of  Science."  The  plan  struck 
him  very  favorably  as  having  great  capabilities,  and 
want  of  time  only  prevented  him  from  carrying  it  into 
execution.  He  was  desirous  of  undertaking  it  at  this 
time,  from  the  wish  to  make  it  the  means  of  filling  up 
some  arrears  in  his  pecuniary  means,  which  had 
occurred  during  those  years  in  which  his  salary  had 
fallen  short  of  his  necessary  expenses.  But,  although 
this  project  was  ultimately  relinquished,  it  was  a  favor- 
ite one ;  and  he  entertained  it  so  long  as  to  find  time  to 


176  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

collect,  in  the  course  of  this  and  the  next  year,  a  con- 
siderable amount  of  materials. 

On  looking  over  the  notes  which  he  made  for  these 
lectures,  I  must  confess  myself  surprised,  well  as  I  knew 
the  rapidity  and  activity  of  his  mind,  at  the  richness  of 
the  collection  of  facts,  hints,  and  illustrations,  which  he 
had  thus  incidentally  accumulated,  on  subjects  with 
which  he  had  been  but  slightly  conversant.  He  knew 
too  well  to  what  he  was  competent,  to  venture  out  of 
his  depth.  He  did  not  pretend  to  a  properly  scientific 
consideration  of  any  part  of  his  subject,  but  proposed 
merely  to  give  a  general  sketch  of  the  prominent  fea- 
tures of  each  department  of  science,  with  a  particular 
illustration  and  development  of  those  which  have  a 
peculiar  bearing  on  poetry  and  religion.  This  was  a 
task  for  which  his  mind  was  most  happily  suited. 

In  May,  1836,  he  was  chosen  to  preach  the  Sermon 
before  the  Convention  of  Congregational  Ministers  in  the 
succeeding  year,  a  privilege,  of  late  years,  but  rarely 
conceded  to  the  Unitarian  portion  of  this  body,  by  the 
majority.  He  delivered  this  discourse,  June  1st,  1837. 
The  state  of  his  eyes  had  rendered  it  necessary,  that  it 
should  be  wholly  written  from  his  dictation;  beside 
this,  he  had  been  confined  to  his  bed  by  sickness,  for 
the  few  days  during  which  it  was  composed.  His  con- 
dition rendered  it  very  doubtful  whether  he  would  be 
able  to  appear  in  public ;  but,  extremely  anxious  to  do 
so,  he  made  himself  familiar  with  the  manuscript  the 
night  before.  In  the  morning  it  was  still  a  matter  of 
very  questionable  prudence,  whether  he  ought  to  make 
the  attempt:  but,  feeling  good  courage  as  the  hour 
approached,  he  dressed  himself,  was  driven  to  Boston, 
and,  havmg  acquitted  himself  of  the  appointed  task, 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  177 

returned  immediately  home,  apparently  iminjured  by 
the  exertion. 

At  the  close  of  the  Academic  year,  in  July,  he  deliv- 
ered two  discourses,  appropriate  to  the  young  men  who 
were  about  leaving  College,  on  "  Education  the  Business 
of  Life."  They  were  published  at  the  request  of  his 
auditors. 

The  two  following  extracts  are  from  letters  written 
about  this  period,  although  their  subjects  have  no  par- 
ticular relation  to  it;  the  first,  to  a  friend  under  an 
engagement  to  preach  at  Cincinnati ;  the  second,  to  his 
brother,  the  author  of  ''  Letters  from  Palmyra,"  con- 
cerning the  second  of  his  works,  "Probus." 

"  Cambridge,  March  31,  1837. 

"  I  send  you  a  few  tracts,  such  as  perhaps  may  be  useful 
to  you.  When  you  reach  Cincinnati,  you  may  supply  your- 
self from  our  depository  there. 

"  As  to  preaching,  it  is  not  easy  for  one,  who  has  never 
been  upon  the  ground,  to  say  distinctly  what  would  be  the 
sort  of  sermons  desirable.  The  general  position  is,  however, 
I  think,  very  clear ;  let  the  aim  be  Pi-actical  Godliness; — 
build  this  on  Principles  and  Doctrines ; — teach  the  peculiar 
doctrines,  openly,  fearlessly,  decidedly,  but  gently  toward 
others,  and  always  for  the  sake  of  their  practical  application ; 
not  as  merely  theological  dogmas,— not  controversially,— not 
as  mere  builders  of  a  sect.  Thus  let  it  be  seen,  that  we  wish 
to  establish  the  Christian  church,  and  that  the  Unitarian  sys- 
tem is  only  our  instrument  for  that  work. 

"  With  this  view,  I  should,  in  your  case,  prepare  the  most 
serious  discourses  I  could,  urging  the  severest  and  highest 
morality  on  the  ground  of  the  most  liberal  and  rational  prin- 
ciples. These  principles  I  would  state,  expound,  apply ;  but 
so  that  no  one  should  have  occasion  to  say,  I  did  it  for  their 


178  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

own  barren  selves,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  piety  and  goodness 
which  are  to  proceed  from  them." 

"  Cambridge,  March  27,  1S3S. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  are  getting  on  with  the  book,  and 
books.  As  for  titles,  it  is  a  puzzle  sometimes.  I  do  not  like 
either  of  your  aliases.  Why  not  '  Probus  '  alone  ?— or,  it 
just  occurs  to  me,  add—'  Rome  in  the  Third  Century.'  Of 
the  words  '  Christians,^  or  '  Christianity,''  I  should  prefer  the 
former,  if  either  ;  and  esteem  its  plurality  no  objection  ;  ahvays 
provided  the  article  the  be  not  omitted.  I  do  not  know  whether 
the  feeling  is  to  be  regarded,  but  I  have  a  feeling  of  reluctance 
at  seeing  this  Christian  purpose  stuck  upon  the  title-page. 
'  Probus,  or  Rome  in  the  Third  Century ;'  commend  me  to  it, 
and  it  to  you,  as  euphonious  and  significant,  and  committing 
nobody,  yet  taking  all.  As  regards  the  Christian  delineation, 
I  think,  from  what  occurred  in  former  times,  that  your  ten- 
dency may  be  to  regard  it  too  exclusively  as  a  Revelation  of 
Immortality,  and  too  little  as  a  Remedy  for  Si?i.  The  former 
is  the  vein  for  speculative  philosophers  and  for  poets ;  the  lat- 
ter for  real  life  and  substantial  influence,  and  that  to  which  its 
whole  power  is  due.  The  doctrine  of  Immortality,  without 
its  stern  application  to  the  consrAence,  and  the  other  doctrine 
of  the  world's  actual  depravity,  would  have  been  worth  little  ; 
and  the  New  Testament,  and  all  the  history  of  the  Christian 
progress,  show  the  great  fact  of  regeneration  to  be  the  chief 
thing  of  pith  and  moment. 

"  This  accounts  for  the  prevalence  of  the  doctrine  of  atone- 
ment. Christianity  roused  first  of  all  the  consciousness  of  sin 
and  consequent  danger ;  'penitence  was  the  first  emotion,  and 
reform  the  first  duty  ;  not  the  solution  of  philosophical  skep- 
ticism, and  joy  at  the  prospect  of  immortal  life.  I  suppose, 
of  course,  that  you  will  attend  to  this  more  than  before;  I 
hope  you  will  not  fail  to  make  it  prominent.  There  is  no  sat- 
isfactory view  of  our  religion  and  its  efficacy  from  any  other 
point." 


179 

In  the  year  1838,  he  speaks  of  himself  as  better  than 
he  had  been  since  1828.  But  this  was  not  actually  the 
case,  however  buoyant  he  might  have  felt  at  his  com- 
parative activity  and  power  of  exertion  at  some  partic- 
ular moments.  Still  he  was  well  enough  to  pass  this 
year  and  the  next  in  the  performance  of  much  labor. 
In  January,  1838,  he  gave  a  Lecture  introductory  to  a 
course  of  lectures  under  the  patronage  of  the  Peace  So- 
ciety, and  was  engaged  otherwise  in  carrying  on  tlie 
cause.  In  April,  he  visited  Nerw  York  and  Philadel- 
phia, preaching  the  ordination  sermon  of  Mr.  Holland  at 
Brooklyn,  and  preaching  also  at  Philadelphia. 

In  the  winter  of  this  year,  he  partook,  with  the  rest 
of  the  community,  in  the  shock  produced  by  the  death 
of  Mr.  Cilley,  a  member  of  Congress,  in  a  duel  fought 
under  circumstances  of  great  atrocity,  and  outraging 
even  the  feelings  of  those  who  had,  by  usage,  been  ren- 
dered blind  to  the  barbarous  character  of  this  custom. 
He  availed  himself  of  the  excited  state  of  the  minds  of 
all  at  this  event,  to  lift  up  his  testimony  against  duel- 
ling, and  endeavored  to  produce  a  serious  impression  on 
the  young  men  whom  he  was  in  the  habit  of  addressing. 
His  text  was  Pro  v.  xx.  3,  "  It  is  an  honor  for  a  man  to 
cease  from  strife."  This  discourse  was  delivered  in  the 
Chapel  in  the  morning,  and  he  was  to  preach  in  the 
City  in  the  afternoon.  After  service  in  the  morning,  he 
received  a  note  from  the  President,  expressing  his  grat- 
ification with  the  sermon,  and  requesting  him  earnestly 
to  repeat  it  in  whatever  place  he  should  preach  in  Boston 
in  the  afternoon.  He  accordingly  delivered  it  at  the 
West  Church.  He  received  a  note  from  one  of  the 
audience,  written  the  same  day,  asking  liberty  to  pub- 
lish it,  and  to  ''  present  him  with  an  edition  of  it;"  and 


180  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

in  the  course  of  the  next  two  days  he  received  a  further 
application  on  the  behalf  of  several  gentlemen  of  the 
congregation,  proposing  the  same  request.  It  was 
accordingly  given  to  the  public. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year,  1838,  he  underwent  a 
very  severe  affliction  in  the  death  of  his  sister  Harriet, 
wife  of  the  Rev.  Edward  B.  Hall,  of  Providence.  The 
circumstances  attendant  upon  her  loss  were  of  the  most 
painful  character.  She  had  been,  up  to  the  day  of  her 
decease,  in  her  usual  health,  and  had  ridden  on  Satur- 
day, with  her  liusband,  from  Providence  to  Grafton, 
where  he  was  to  preach  the  next  day.  The  same  night 
she  was  seized  with  apoplexy,  and  died  the  following 
morning.  Her  friends  at  home  had  even  no  intelligence 
of  her  illness,  till  her  husband  arrived  at  Cambridge, 
bringmg  with  him  the  news  of  her  death.  Mrs.  Hall 
was  some  years  younger  than  her  brother  Henry,  and, 
from  this  circumstance,  he  had  been  led  to  take  almost 
a  paternal  interest  in  her  education.  She  had  exhibited 
in  early  life  many  strong  and  peculiar  qualities,  and 
had  had  many  difficulties  of  temperament  and  of  dis 
position  to  struggle  with.  He  had  watched  her  devel- 
opment, aided  her  by  counsel,  and  sometimes  by  re- 
proof, in  her  efforts  to  overcome  faults,  and  had  encour- 
aged and  cheered  her  in  her  intellectual,  moral,  and 
religious  progress.  The  excellent  qualities,  which  ex- 
hibited themselves  as  she  advanced  in  life,  had  been  to 
him  a  source  of  great  gratification;  and  he  had  the 
satisfaction,  for  some  years,  of  seeing  her  in  a  situation 
where  she  was  at  once  happy  and  useful.  This  event 
coming  upon  him  so  suddenly,  though  met  with  entire 
submission,  produced  a  deep  impression  on  his  mind. 
With  the  exception  of  the  loss  of  his  own  wife,  in  1824, 


181 

no  death  of  an  adult  member  of  any  branch  of  the  fam- 
ily had  taken  place  for  more  than  thirty  years ;  and, 
whilst  he  had  looked  npon,  and  spoken  of,  this  remark- 
able exemption  with  religious  thankfulness,  he  had 
strongly  felt  that  such  an  exemption  from  the  ordinary 
lot  of  humanity  could  not  long  continue.  But  he  had 
expected  that  he,  as  the  feeblest  of  the  flock,  should  fall 
the  first.  Little  did  he  anticipate,  that  a  blow  was  to 
strike  down  one  so  much  younger  than  himself,  and 
apparently  the  healthiest  of  the  family-circle.  At  the 
time  of  this  event  he  was  in  the  habit  of  keeping  a 
brief  journal  of  passing  occurrences,  and  from  this  I 
extract  the  following  notices  of  it. 

"  June  24:ik,  Sunday  Evem7ig. — On  returning  from  Lec- 
ture, met  Lucy  at  the  door,  with  tidings  of  the  sudden  death 
of  Harriet.  Yesterday,  well  and  happy, — this  morning,  dead 
in  agony.  We  have  felt  and  said  for  a  long  time,  that  this 
exemption  of  our  family  circle,  for  thirty  years,  could  not  be 
expected  to  last ;  but  who  would  have  looked  for  the  bolt  to 
fall  there?  Providence  is  a  mystery;  we  see  a  little,  and 
know  nothing. 

"  Monday,  25th. — The  family  are  gathering  from  all  quar- 
ters ;  how  different  a  meeting  from  that  proposed  for  this  sum- 
mer !  The  disease  proves,  on  examination,  to  have  been 
apoplexy  ;  and  I  find  that  disorder  of  the  head  has  been  not 
infrequent  with  her.     What  a  bewildering  and  amazed  day ! 

"  Tuesday,  26th. — Yesterday  was  cloudy,  with  violent  rains 
in  the  afternoon ;  evening  clear,  with  a  sweet  new  moon. 
To-day  brilliant,  with  sunshine  and  all  the  glory  of  a  most 
beautiful  summer.  We  buried  her  at  Mount  Auburn,  at 
twelve  o'clock.  Brother  Parkman  prayed.  AYho  of  us  can 
forget  the  impression  of  that  moment,  when  we  stood  at  the 

VOL.  II.  16 


182  LIFE   OF   HENRY  WARE,    JR. 

open  tomb  amidst  all  the  magnificence  of  Sweet  Auburn's 
most  luxuriant  scenery  ? 

"  Saturday,  30^A. — Lecture  at  half  past  eight ;  an  old  one, 
because  too  much  absorbed  in  the  events  of  the  week  to 
command  myself  to  write.  I  do  not  yet  find  myself  restored 
to  a  capacity  for  study  or  thinking ; — unhinged,  restless." 

Who  of  us,  truly,  can  forget  the  impression  7  To  be 
so  soon,  indeed,  renewed,  but  with  what  a  contrast  in 
the  circumstances !  She  had  been  cut  off  in  a  moment, 
in  the  midst  of  health,  spirits,  and  the  reasonable  ex- 
pectation of  a  long  life.  Five  years  afterwards,  the 
same  group  followed  to  the  same  resting-place  his  own 
remains,  the  shadow  of  his  former  self,  the  victim  of 
slow  disease,  at  the  long-expected  termination  of  a  life 
of  protracted  infirmity. 


CHAPTER     XX. 

DISCOURSE  OF  MR.  EMERSON  BEFORE  THE  DIVINITY  SCHOOL  — MR. 
ware's  CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  HIM  —  FESTIVAL  AT  EXETER — 
RESIGNATION  OF  HIS  COLLEAGUE,  DR.  PALFREY,  AND  OF  HIS 
FATHER  — STATE  OF  THE  SCHOOL — EFFORTS  FOR  ITS  IMPROVE- 
MENT—LETTERS   TO    HIS    SON. 

1838-41.     JET.  44-47. 

His  thoughts  seem,  from  about  this  period,  to  have 
been  ahnost  exchisively  directed  to  the  state  and  pros- 
pects of  the  Theological  School.  This  subject  absorbed, 
for  the  most  part,  his  attention  during  the  remaining 
years  of  his  life.  In  the  same  summer  of  which  we 
have  been  speaking,  Mr.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  was 
invited,  by  the  graduating  class  of  Divinity  Students, 
to  deliver  before  them  the  annual  discourse.  This  dis- 
course, while  every  one  saw  in  it  much  to  admire  and 
approve,  contained  many  sentiments  concerning  the 
supernatural  character  of  Christianity,  which  were 
regarded  by  the  principal  friends  of  the  Institution,  as 
unsound,  and  of  dangerous  tendency.  No  one  could 
feel  more  strongly  on  this  point  than  Mr.  Ware ;  and 
he  had  an  opportunity  on  the  evening  of  its  delivery  to 
hold  some  conversation  with  its  author  with  regard  to 
it,  which  is  referred  to  in  a  letter  to  him,  written  the 
next  day. 

"  Cabibridge,  July  15,  1S38. 
"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  I  do  not  know  how  it  escaped  me  to  thank  you  for  the  vol- 
umes of  Carlyle  ;  to  make  up  for  which  neglect,  I  do  it  now. 


184 

I  am  glad  to  have  so  strong  a  motive  as  this  gives  me  for 
reading  him  carefully  and  thoroughly.  I  believe  that  I  am 
not  so  far  prejudiced  by  the  affectations  and  peculiarities  of 
his  later  manner,  as  to  be  unwilling  to  perceive  and  enjoy 
what  he  has  of  manly  and  good  ;  and  I  would  willingly  work 
myself,  if  possible,  beyond  the  annoyance  of  that  poor  outside. 
Indeed,  I  have  always  seen  enough  of  his  real  merits  to  wish 
I  could  see  more,  and  I  heartily  thank  you  for  giving  me  the 
opportunity. 

"  It  has  occurred  to  me,  that,  since  I  said  to  you  last  night, 
I  should  probably  assent  to  your  unqualified  statements,  if  I 
could  take  your  qualifications  with  them,  I  am  bound  in  fair- 
ness to  add,  that  this  applies  only  to  a  portion,  and  not  to  all. 
With  regard  to  some,  I  must  confess,  that  they  appear  to  me 
more  than  doubtful,  and  that  their  prevalence  would  tend  to 
overthrow  the  authority  and  influence  of  Christianity.  On 
this  account,  I  look  with  anxiety  and  no  little  sorrow  to  the 
course  which  your  mind  has  been  taking.  You  will  excuse 
my  saying  this,  which  I  probably  never  should  have  troubled 
you  with,  if,  as  I  said,  a  proper  frankness  did  not  seem  at  this 
moment  to  require  it.  That  I  appreciate  and  rejoice  in  the 
lofty  ideas  and  beautiful  images  of  spiritual  life,  which  you 
throw  out,  and  which  stir  so  many  souls,  is  what  gives  me 
a  great  deal  more  pleasure  to  say.  I  do  not  believe  that  any 
one  has  had  more  enjoyment  from  them.  If  I  could  have 
helped  it,  I  would  not  have  let  you  know  how  much  I  feel  the 
abatement,  from  the  cause  I  have  referred  to." 

To  this  letter,  Mr.  Emerson  replied  as  follows : 

"  Concord,  July  28,  1838, 
"  What  you  say  about  the  discourse  at  Divinity  College,  is 
just  what  I  might  expect  from  your  truth  and  charity,  combin- 
ed with  your  known  opinions.     I  am  not  a  stock  or  a  stone, 
as  one  said  in  the  old  time ;  and  could  not  but  feel  pain  in  say- 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  185 

ing  some  things  in  that  place  and  presence,  which  I  supposed 
might  meet  dissent,  and  the  dissent,  I  may  say,  of  dear  friends 
and  benefactors  of  mine.  Yet,  as  my  conviction  is  perfect  in 
the  substantial  truth  of  the  doctrine  of  this  discourse,  and  is 
not  very  new,  you  will  see,  at  once,  that  it  must  appear  to  me 
very  important  that  it  be  spoken  ;  and  I  thought  I  would  not 
pay  the  nobleness  of  my  friends  so  mean  a  compliment,  as  to 
suppress  my  opposition  to  their  supposed  views  out  of  fear  of 
offence.  I  would  rather  say  to  them, — These  things  look 
thus  to  me ;  to  you,  otherwise.  Let  us  say  out  our  uttermost 
word,  and  be  the  all-pervading  truth,  as  it  surely  will,  judge 
between  us.  Either  of  us  would,  I  doubt  not,  be  equally  glad 
to  be  apprized  of  his  error.  Meantime,  I  shall  be  admonished 
by  this  expression  of  your  thought,  to  revise  with  greater  care 
the  '  Address.'  before  it  is  printed  (for  the  use  of  the  Class), 
and  I  heartily  thank  you  for  this  renewed  expression  of  your 
tried  toleration  and  love. 

"  Respectfully  and  affectionately  yours, 

"  R.  W.  E." 

It  is  unnecessary  here  to  refer  to  differences  and 
discussions  growing  out  of  this,  and  other  expressions 
of  opinions  of  the  same  character  with  those  which 
were  contained  in  the  discourse  of  Mr.  Emerson.  The 
existence  of  such  a  controversy,  in  the  midst  of  those 
with  whom  he  had  been  associated,  was  to  my  brother 
a  very  painful  thing,  and  he  regarded  it  as  a  great  evil  ; 
but  he  regarded  it  as  a  still  greater  evil,  that  opinions 
like  these  should .  obtain  and  hold  their  ground  in  a 
Christian  community.  He  did  not  hesitate,  therefore, 
on  all  suitable  occasions,  to  express  the  very  decided 
conviction  which  he  felt.  The  very  last  sermon  which 
he  ever  prepared  for  the  pulpit,  but  which,  as  will  be 
seen,  he  never  preached,  was  composed  with  a  view  to 
the  state  of  public  feeling  which  grew  out  of  this  con- 

VOL.   II.  16^ 


186  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

troversy ;  but  the  only  public  expression  of  his  senti- 
ments concerning  any  part  of  it  is  contained  in  a  sermon 
on  "  The  Personality  of  the  Deity,"  which  was  deliv- 
ered in  the  Chapel  in  the  early  part  of  the  term  follow- 
ing the  delivery  of  Mr.  Emerson's  discourse,  and  was 
published  at  the  request  of  the  members  of  the  Theo- 
logical School.  Of  this  Sermon  he  sent  a  copy  to  Mr. 
Emerson,  with  the  following  letter. 

"  Cambridge,  October  3,  1S3S. 
"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  By  the  present  mail,  you  will  probably  receive  a  copy  of  a 
Sermon,  which  I  have  just  printed,  and  which  I  am  unwilling 
should  fall  into  your  hands  without  a  word  from  myself  accom- 
panying it  It  has  been  regarded  as  controverting  some  posi- 
tions taken  by  you  at  various  times,  and  was  indeed,  written 
pardy  with  a  view  to  them.  But  I  am  anxious  to  have  it 
understood,  that,  as  I  am  not  perfectly  aware  of  the  precise 
nature  of  your  opinions  on  the  subject  of  the  discourse,  nor 
upon  exactly  what  speculations  they  are  grounded,  I  do  not, 
therefore,  pretend  especially  to  enter  the  lists  with  them,  but 
rather  to  give  my  own  views  of  an  important  subject,  and  of 
the  evils  which  seem  to  be  attendant  on  a  rejection  of  the 
established  opinions.  I  hope  that  I  have  not  argued  unfairly ; 
and,  if  I  assail  posidons,  or  reply  to  arguments,  which  are  none 
of  yours,  I  am  solicitous  that  nobody  should  persuade  you, 
that  I  suppose  them  to  be  yours ;  since  I  do  not  know  by  what 
arguments  the  doctrine,  that  '  the  soul  knows  no  persons,'  is 
justified  to  your  mind. 

"  To  say  this,  is  the  chief  purpose  of  my  writing ;  and  I 
wish  to  add,  that  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  been  earnesdy 
persuaded,  that  men  arc  suffering  from  want  of  sufficiently 
realizing  the  fact  of  the  Divine  Person.  I  used  to  perceive  it, 
as  I  thought,  when  I  was  a  minister  in  Boston,  in  talking  with 
my  people,  and  to  refer  to  this  cause  much  of  the  lifelessness 


JR.  187 

of  the  religious  character.  I  have  seen  evils  from  the  same 
cause  among  young  men,  since  I  have  been  where  I  am ;  and 
have  been  prompted  to  think  much  of  the  question  how  they 
should  be  removed.  When,  therefore,  I  was  called  to  dis- 
course at  length  on  the  Divine  Being,  in  a  series  of  College 
sermons,  it  naturally  occurred  to  me  to  give  prominence  to  this 
point,  the  rather  as  it  was  one  of  those,  to  which  attention 
had  been  recently  drawn,  and  about  Vv^hich  a  strong  interest 
was  felt. 

"  I  confess,  that  I  esteem  it  particularly  unhappy  to  be  thus 
brought  into  a  sort  of  public  opposition  to  you ;  for  [  have  a 
thousand  feelings  which  draw  me  toward  you  ;  but  my  situa- 
tion, and  the  circumstances  of  the  times,  render  it  unavoida- 
ble ;  and  both  you  and  I  understand,  that  we  are  to  act  on  the 
maxim,  '  Amicus  Plato,  amicus  Socrates,  sed  magis  amica 
Veritas ;'  (I  believe  I  quote  right.)  We  would  gladly  agree 
with  all  our  friends  ;  but,  that  being  impossible,  and  it  being 
impossible  also  to  choose  which  of  them  we  will  differ  from,  we 
must  submit  to  the  common  lot  of  thinkers,  and  make  up  in 
love  of  heart,  what  we  want  in  unity  of  judgment.  But  I  am 
growing  prosy  ;  so  I  break  off. 

"  Yours  very  truly, 

"  H.  Ware,  Jr." 

The  following  is  Mr.  Emerson's  answer. 

"Concord,  October  8,  183S. 
"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  I  ought  sooner  to  have  acknowledged  your  kind  letter  of 
last  week,  and  the  Sermon  it  accompanied.  The  letter  was 
right  manly  and  noble.  The  Sermon,  too,  I  have  read  with 
attention.  If  it  assails  any  doctrines  of  mine, — perhaps  I  am 
not  so  quick  to  see  it  as  writers  generally, — certainly  I  did  not 
feel  any  disposition  to  depart  from  my  habitual  contentment, 
that  you  should  say  your  thought,  whilst  I  say  mine. 


188  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

"  I  believe  I  must  tell  you  what  I  think  of  my  new  position. 
It  strikes  me  very  oddly,  that  good  and  wise  men  at  Cam- 
bridge and  Boston  should  think  of  raising  me  into  an  object  of 
criticism.  I  have  always  been, — from  my  very  incapacity  of 
methodical  writing, — '  a  chartered  libertine,'  free  to  worship 
and  free  to  rail, — lucky  when  I  could  make  myself  understood, 
but  never  esteemed  near  enough  to  the  institutions  and  mind 
of  society  to  deserve  the  notice  of  the  masters  of  literature  and 
religion.  I  have  appreciated  fully  the  advantages  of  my  posi- 
tion ;  for  I  well  know,  that  there  is  no  scholar  less  willing  or 
less  able  to  be  a  polemic.  I  could  not  give  account  of  myself 
if  challenged.  I  could  not  possibly  give  you  one  of  the  '  argu- 
ments' you  cruelly  hint  at,  on  which  any  doctrine  of  mine 
stands.  For  I  do  not  know  what  arguments  mean,  in  refer- 
ence to  any  expression  of  a  thought.  I  delight  in  telling  what 
I  think ;  but,  if  you  ask  me  how  I  dare  say  so,  or,  why  it  is 
so,  I  am  the  most  helpless  of  mortal  men.  I  do  not  even  see, 
that  either  of  these  questions  admits  of  an  answer.  So  that, 
in  the  present  droll  posture  of  my  affairs,  when  I  see  myself 
suddenly  raised  into  the  importance  of  a  heretic,  I  am  very 
uneasy  when  I  advert  to  the  supposed  duties  of  such  a  person- 
age, who  is  to  make  good  his  thesis  against  all  comers. 

"  I  certainly  shall  do  no  such  thing.  I  shall  read  what  you 
and  other  good  men  write,  as  I  have  always  done, — glad  when 
you  speak  my  thoughts,  and  skipping  the  page  that  has  noth- 
ing for  me.  I  shall  go  on,  just  as  before,  seeing  whatever  I 
can,  and  telling  what  I  see  ;  and,  I  suppose,  with  the  same 
fortune  that  has  hitherto  attended  me  ;  the  joy  of  finding,  that 
my  abler  and  better  brothers,  who  work  with  the  sympathy  ot 
society,  loving  and  beloved,  do  now  and  then  unexpectedly 
confirm  my  perceptions,  and  find  my  nonsense  is  only  their 
own  thought  in  motley.     And  so  I  am 

"  Your  affectionate  servant, 

"  R.  W.  Emerson." 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  189 

In  the  summer  of  this  year  Mr.  Ware  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  reviving  some  of  the  most  pleasant  associa- 
tions of  the  earUer  part  of  his  life,  by  a  visit  to  Exeter, 
for  the  purpose  of  attending  a  festival  of  the  alumni  of 
the  Academy,  on  the  occasion  of  the  retirement  of  his 
old  friend.  Dr.  Abbot,  from  the  office  of  Principal,  which 
he  had  held  for  fifty  years.  In  this  he  took  a  great 
interest ;  and,  although  not  himself  an  alumnus,  he  was 
welcomed,  as  a  former  instructor,  to  a  participation  in 
the  pleasures  and  festivities  of  the  occasion,  and  con- 
tributed his  share  to  the  entertainments  of  the  day,  by 
making  one  of  the  addresses  to  the  assembly,  and  com- 
posing a  song  for  the  dinner.  Many  of  his  old  friends 
were  still  remaining  to  welcome  him;  and  he  was  happy 
to  find  that  the  warm  feeling  of  attachment,  which  he 
ever  retained  for  the  place  and  the  people,  was  met  by 
a  reciprocal  feeling  among  those  with  whom  he  had 
passed  so  many  pleasant  days. 

"  Song  for  the  Abbot  Festival,  Exeter,  N.  H.,  Aug.  23,  1838. 

"  Tune,  Sandy  and  Jenny. 

"  From  the  high-ways  and  by-ways  of  manhood  we  come, 
And  gather  like  children  abo-ut  an  old  home  ; 
We  return  from  life's  weariness,  tumult,  and  pain, 
Rejoiced  in  our  hearts  to  be  school-boys  again. 

"  The  Senator  comes  from  the  hall  of  debate  ; 
The  Governor  steps  from  the  high  chair  of  State  ; 
The  Judge  leaves  the  bench  to  the  '  law's  wise  delay  *; 
Rejoiced  to  be  school-boys  again  for  a  day. 

"  The  Parson  his  pulpit  has  left  unsupplied  ; 
The  Doctor  has  put  his  old  sulky  aside  ; 
The  Lawyer  his  client  has  turned  from  the  door ; 
And  all  are  at  Exeter,  —  school-boys  once  more. 


190  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

"  Oh  !  glad  to  our  eyes  are  these  dear  scenes  displayed  ; 
The  halls  where  we  studied,  the  fields  where  we  strayed  ! 
There  is  change,  there  is  change  !  but  we  will  not  deplore  ; 
Enough  that  we  feel  ourselves  school-boys  once  more. 

"  Enough  that  once  more  our  old  Master  we  meet, 
The  same  as  of  yore  when  we  sat  at  his  feet ; 
Let  us  place  on  his  brow  every  laurel  we  've  won, 
And  show  that  each  pupil  is  also  a  son. 

"  And,  when  to  the  harsh  scenes  of  life  we  return, 
Our  hearts  with  the  glow  of  this  meeting  shall  burn  ; 
Its  calm  light  shall  cheer  till  earth's  school-time  is  o'er, 
And  prepare  us  in  heaven  for  one  meeting  more." 

The  next  year  was  a  very  busy  one,  and  during  it 
he  enjoyed  better  health  than  in  any  which  intervened 
between  his  siclmess  in  1836,  and  his  last  disease.  He 
remarks,  on  being  prevented  from  preaching  by  illness 
toward  the  end  of  July,  that  it  was  '-  the  third  Sunday 
lost  by  illness  since  the  beginning  of  the  term,  the  mid- 
dle of  February.  Less  loss  than  any  season  since  in 
Cambridge.  Lmis  Deo.'''  In  the  spring  he  was 
engaged  in  carrying  through  the  press  a  new  edition  of 
Mr.  Buckminster's  Sermons.  This  edition  was  chiefly 
a  republication  of  the  volumes  which  had  already 
appeared.  The  only  additions  were,  some  notices  of 
Mr.  Buckminster's  character,  by  Mr.  Norton,  which 
appeared  in  '-The  General  Repository;"  some  occa- 
sional Discourses  in  the  second  volume,  which  had 
been  published  in  the  author's  life-time ;  and  some  pas- 
sages selected  from  his  manuscripts,  after  his  death,  for 
insertion  in  "  The  Christian  Disciple." 

In  this  year.  Dr.  Palfrey,  who  had  been  his  colleague 
during  the  whole  period  of  his  connexion  with  the 
School,   resigned  his  office;   and,  in  th^  autumn,  his 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   "WARE,    JR.  191 

father,  who  had  still  continued  to  superintend  some  of 
the  exercises  of  the  theological  students,  was  obliged, 
by  the  almost  entire  failure  of  his  sight,  to  withdraw 
himself  wholly  from  duty.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Noyes  was 
elected  to  fill  the  place  left  vacant  by  the  former ;  but 
the  necessary  result  of  this  change  was,  that  the  labors, 
hitherto  divided  among  three  officers,  were  now  to  be 
performed  by  two. 

My  brother  had  always  felt,  that  the  labors  of  the 
Professors  in  the  School,  interrupted  as  they  had  been 
by  the  additional  duties  for  which  they  were  called  on 
in  the  University,  were  not  only  greater  than  their 
number  was  adequate  to,  but  more  varied,  and  conse- 
quently perplexing,  than  could  be  performed  by  them 
in  a  manner  satisfactory  to  themselves  or  the  public. 
He  had  been  oppressed  by  a  feeling,  that,  feeble  as  he 
was,  and  exposed  to  frequent  interruptions  in  duty  from 
attacks  of  ill  health,  he  did  not  himself  do  justice  to  the 
place  which  he  occupied ;  and,  failing  to  come  up  to  his 
own  standard  of  what  the  office  required,  he  had  more 
than  once  felt  disposed  to  resign  it  to  a  more  competent, 
if  not  a  more  willing,  laborer.  During  the  remainder 
of  his  incumbency,  his  life  was,  I  will  not  say  embit- 
tered, but  harassed  and  rendered  anxious,  by  considera- 
tions growing  out  of  what  appeared  to  him  the  unfa- 
vorable condition  of  the  School. 

In  the  success  of  the  Institution,  as  must  be  evident 
from  his  entire  course  with  regard  to  it,  his  whole  soul 
was  bound  up.  He  had  very  elevated  views  of  its 
importance;  and  of  the  great  and  salutary  influence 
which  a  race  of  ministers,  thoroughly  and  religiously 
educated,  were  capable  of  exerting  upon  the  state  of  our 
country.     It  was  the  wish  nearest  his  heart,  that  this 


192 

Institution  should  be  so  endowed,  so  placed,  and  so 
conducted,  as  to  train  up  such  a  race  of  ministers. 
He  believed  that  it  was  practicable  to  accomplish 
this;  but  he  felt  very  strongly,  that,  in  its  condition 
at  that  time,  the  Institution  did  not  do  all,  of  which 
it  was  capable.  The  circumstances,  which,  in  his 
opinion,  stood  chiefly  in  the  way  of  its  successful  career, 
were,  its  connexion  with  the  University ;  its  situation 
so  near  the  metropolis  as  to  familiarize  its  members  with 
a  style  and  manner  of  living  not  the  best  suited  to  pre- 
pare men  for  a  profession,  that  requires,  in  most  of  its 
members,  simple,  frugal,  and  self-denying  modes  of  life ; 
and  the  inadequacy  of  the  means  of  instruction.  While 
he  remained  in  Cambridge,  he,  from  time  to  time,  joined 
with  his  friends  m  efforts  to  remove  these  obstacles. 
In  the  course  of  the  year  1S39,  several  meetings  of  gen- 
tlemen interested  in  the  School  were  held,  having  this 
purpose  in  view.  It  was  thought,  however,  that  the 
conditions,  on  which  the  funds  of  the  School  had  been 
intrusted  to  the  Corporation  of  the  University,  did  not 
admit  of  their  bemg  transferred  to  a  separate  body; 
and,  this  being  the  case,  some  of  those  most  inclined 
to  promote  its  prosperity  were  deterred  from  giving 
their  aid,  though  still  a  large  and  liberal  addition  was 
made  to  its  funds  within  the  two  or  three  following 
years. 

It  is  only  necessary  to  add,  that,  in  the  course  of  the 
last  two  years  of  his  Professorship,  the  additional  duty 
of  teaching  Ecclesiastical  History,  by  a  course  of  Lec- 
tures, fell  to  his  lot,  a  work  on  which  he  was  first 
engaged  in  the  autumn  of  1S41.  In  further  illustration 
of  his  feelings,  his  position,  and  of  the  condition  of  the 
School,  the  following  extracts  are  inserted,  from  a  letter 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  193' 

addressed  to  the  Rev.  Charles  Briggs,  the  Chairman  of 
a  committee  of  the  ahmmi  of  the  Theological  School, 
chosen  at  their  annual  meeting  in  1841,  for  the  purpose 
of  taking  into  consideration  means  for  promoting  its 
interests. 

"  Cambridge,  January  15,  1842. 

"  I  will  not  labor  this  point ;    but  there  is 

another  which  should  have  your  serious  attention.  The 
School  has,  in  fact,  less  than  two  men  devoted  to  it.  Let  me 
ask  the  Committee  to  possess  themselves  of  the  facts  of  the 
case.  I  will  state  them.  Dr.  Noyes  teaches  the  Hebrew  to 
the  Junior  Class,  an  hour  every  day  ;  the  criticism,  &c.,  of  the 
Scriptures,  Old  Testament  and  New, — the  Evidences  of  Chris- 
tianity and  Doctrinal  Theology, — these  branches  occupy  an 
hour  and  a  half  more  every  day.  Look  at  that  list,  and  say 
if  it  is  possible  for  one  man  to  do,  in  all  those  branches,  the 
thorough  work,  satisfactorily  to  himself  and  to  the  friends  of 
religion,  which  in  such  an  Institution  ought  to  be  furnished. 

"  Then,  for  myself;  my  regular  duty  was,  to  teach  the 
composition  and  delivery  of  Sermons,  and  the  duties  of  the 
Pastoral  office.  This  involved  a  great  deal  of  time  and  drudg- 
ery, in  the  examination  of  written  discourses,  and  in  exercises 
in  reading  and  speaking.  It  required  Lectures  also  on  Preach- 
ing, and  on  Church  Polity ;  and  exercises  on  Stjde  and  Com- 
position, and  Public  Prayer.  To  do  these  things  faithfully 
and  well,  would  demand  a  great  deal  of  time,  and  allow  little 
else  to  be  done.  Besides  this,  I  now  teach  Natural  Theology, 
— in  these  metaphysical  days  no  slight  affair, — and  Ecclesias- 
tical History,  which  can  be  decently  taught  only  by  one  who 
devotes  his  life  to  it. 

"  Yet,  miscellaneous  as  all  this  is,  and  a  source  of  perpetual 
dissatisfaction,  because  we  are  compelled  to  feel  every  day, 
that  we  can  do  no  justice  to  the  subjects,  or  our  pupils,  or  our- 
selves, we  yet  might  endure  it  with  some  equanimity,  if  it 

VOL.    II.  17 


194 

were  all.  Bat,  after  a  week  of  anxiety  and  weariness,  we  are 
to  preach  on  Sunday, — one  of  us  a  quarter,  the  other,  half  the 
time.  That  threat  work  is  thus  committed  to  men  with  jaded 
spirits,  and  bodies  needing  rest,  and  minds  whose  whole  atten- 
tion has  been  engaged  in  a  way  not  well  suited  to  prepare  for 
the  pulpit.  Ought  the  preaching  in  that  Chapel,  to  those 
yoimg  men,  to  be  left  thus  to  accident,  as  it  were, — to  be  pro- 
vided by  men,  who,  if  they  do  their  other  duties,  cannot  pre- 
pare for  this,  and,  if  they  prepare  for  this,  must  neglect  some 
other  duties  ?     Yet  such  is  the  present  state  of  affairs. 

"  And  this  is  not  all.  We  are  also  called  upon  to  attend 
morning  and  evening  prayers  in  the  College  Chapel,  and  in 
the  Chapel  of  the  School.  The  latter  we  intrust  more  than  half 
the  time  to  the  members  of  the  Senior  class,  and  thus  relieve 
ourselves,  while  we  benefit  them. 

"  Moreover,  if  any  Undergraduates  study  Hebrew,  Dr. 
Noyes  must  leave  his  proper  studies  and  go  and  teach  them. 
And,  for  myself,  I  am  obliged  to  teach  Butler  and  Paley  to  the 
Undergraduates,  and  to  lecture  to  them  once  a  week,  for  half 
the  year,  on  the  History  and  Criticism  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, to  the  great  interruption  of  my  proper  duties  in  the 
School. 

"  The  Committee  will  perceive,  then,  that,  in  point  of  fact, 
our  Divinity  School  has  far  less  than  the  strength  and  time  of 
two  men  ;  and  that,  on  these  fragments  of  men  and  their  time, 
are  laid  all  the  deep  and  large  subjects,  which  in  other  institu- 
tions are  divided  between  double  the  number  of  whole  men, 
and  some  of  which  singly  demand  nothing  less  than  the  entire, 
undivided  attention  of  one  man,  to  do  them  anything  like  jus- 
tice. The  Committee  will  judge  whether  it  be  right  and 
decent  to  leave,  what  ought  to  be  the  great  school  of  Liberal 
Theology  in  the  land,  in  such  an  unsatisfactory  state. 

"  What,  then,  shall  be  done  ?  This  is  for  the  Committee 
to  consider,  and  I  trust  they  will  not  lightly  give  up  the  attempt 
to  do  something. 


LIFE   OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  195 

"  I  will  take  leave  only  to  suggest  one  consideration,  which 
presses  strongly  on  my  mind  and  conscience. 

"  Very  little  provision  is  made  for  a  religious  influence  upon 
the  Undergraduates  of  the  College  ;  nothing  but  the  Sunday 
sermons  and  prayers.  Those  young  men  ought  not  to  be  so 
left.  It  is  to  the  la^t  degree  desirable,  that  they  should  be  put 
under  other  and  more  frequent  influences  of  Christian  training. 
But  how  shall  it  be  ?  I  confess  to  you,  that  I  do  not  see  the 
possibility  of  anything  being  done  under  the  existing  pressure 
upon  the  religious  teachers.  What  seems  to  me  most  of  all 
things  desirable,  is  the  appointment  of  a  College  Preacher,  who 
shall  have  the  w^hole  office  of  the  religious  worship  and  instruc- 
tion; who  shall  preach  on  Sunday  to  the  students, — shall  at 
other  times  and  in  various  ways  be  devoted  to  their  religious 
and  moral  culture,  as  their  minister  and  pastor,  and  in  this  way, 
may  be  an  unspeakable  blessing  to  them  ;  who  also  shall  be 
pastor  to  the  families  worshipping  in  the  Chapel,  that  now  live 
without  the  privileges  of  that  important  relation. 

"  If  this  could  be  brought  about,  I  think  it  would  be  a  great 
gain  to  the  College,  and  it  would  so  far  relieve  the  officers  of 
the  School,  that  they  could  go  on  with  comparative  comfort.  I 
should,  for  one,  think  this  preferable  to  the  appointment  of 
another  professor,  who  should,  like  us,  be  mixed  up  Avith  both 
Institutions.  Even  then  we  should  have  a  greater  variety  of 
things  to  attend  to  than  w^e  could  do  well ;  but  it  would  be 
better  than  it  is  now. 

"  I  send  you  these  hints,  because  I  know  of  no  subject  at 
this  time  more  imperatively  demanding  to  be  attended  to. 
There  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  If  anything  can  be  done,  we 
want  the  benefit  of  it  at  once.  If  nothing  can  be  done,  the 
sooner  we  know  the  worst,  the  better.  I  hope  a  good  deal 
from  your  consultations  and  wisdom." 

We  may  here  retrace  our  steps  a  little  to  introduce 
into  our  narrative  a  part  of  his  domestic  history,  which 


196  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

contributed  not  a  little  to  brighten  the  last  few  years  of 
his  life.  In  the  earlier  part  of  this  Memoir,  he  has 
been  seen  in  the  relation  of  a  son,  receiving  instruction 
and  direction  from  his  father  in  the  formation  of  his  own 
character,  and  in  preparing  for  the  conduct  of  life.  We 
find  him,  as  he  advanced  in  years,  performing  the  same 
office  for  his  own  offspring.  His  oldest  son  had  gradu- 
ated in  1S3S,  was  engaged  in  the  ensuing  year  in  teach- 
ing a  school  at  Milton,  and,  in  the  course  of  the  year, 
chose  the  profession  of  his  father.  The  letters,  from 
which  the  following  passages  are  extracted,  were  writ- 
ten to  him  during  his  absence  from  home. 

''  Cambridge,  December  12,  1838. 
"  I  have  in  fact  been  busier  than  usual  this  term.  Besides 
the  recitations  at  College,  which  require  a  great  deal  of  time 
in  preparation,  I  have  written  more  sermons  than  I  ever  did 
in  the  same  number  of  weeks,  and  with  more  care  than  I  used 
to  do  when  I  was  younger.  I  have  now  finished  ;  having 
written  a  series  on  connected  topics,  discussing  some  grave 
questions,  in  twelve  discourses.  Most  of  them  have  some 
relation  to  the  present  state  of  the  public  mind,  and  the  com- 
position of  them  has  been  exceedingly  interesting  to  me.  Be- 
sides all  this,  and  my  common  duties  at  Divinity  Hall,  I  have 
employed  an  hour  once  a  week  in  holding  a  religious  meeting 
at  College,  (Wednesday  evening,)  when  from  thirty  to  forty 
collect  together,  as  we  did  one  year  on  Sunday  morning. 
The  plan,  however,  now  differs  in  this  ;  that  several  gentle- 
men, tutors,  proctors,  and  divinity  students,  engage  in  it,  and  it 
becomes  quite  a  conference.  I  hope  some  good  from  it.  There 
are  always  some  in  College  who  are  sufficiendy  men  to  under- 
stand the  worth  and  the  duty  of  a  religious  life,  and  it  is  a  pity 
that  they  should  not  be  aided  ;  and  equally  a  pity  that  others, 
who  are  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  insensible  and  thoughtless  on 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  197 

that  great  subject,  should  not  be  in  the  way  of  having  their 
attention  called  to  it. 

"  I  have  just  been  reading,  with  uncommon  satisfaction,  Dr. 
Channing's  Address  on  '  Self-Culture.'  It  is  a  remarkably- 
lucid  and  beautiful  exposition  and  appreciation  of  some  of  the 
noblest  and  most  generous  views  of  man,  adapted  to  awaken 
a  lively  interest,  and  to  move  one  to  effort  for  improvement. 
One  rarely  meets  anything  more  just  and  true,  and  I  think 
that  Dr.  Channing  never  printed  anything  more  useful. 
I  hope  you  will  read  it,  and  make  yourself  master  of  it  by 
familiar  and  loving  study.  It  is  well  worth  it.  If  Mr. 
Angier  has  it  not  in  the  house,  I  will  send  it  to  you.  I  think, 
that,  at  your  time  of  life,  you  will  find  it  delightful  to  cheer 
and  aid  you. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  that  you  still  pursue  manfully  the  even 
tenor  of  your  way;  you  will  find  your  reward,  I  am  sure,  in 
the  growth  of  your  character,  and  in  an  increasing  strength 
toward  your  future  way  of  life.  Self-knowledge,  self-disci- 
pline, self-culture, — let  these  be  your  business,  humbly  and 
resolutely,  and  your  opportunities  will  not  be  thrown  away." 

"  Cambridge,  Dece3Iber  30,  1S3S. 

"  Father's   ey^es  are  lately  grooving  worse 

rather  rapidly  ;  he  can  hardly  read  a  page  at  a  time.  I  think 
that  it  affects  his  movement  so  as  to  make  him  appear  like  an 
older  man,  though  I  do  not  perceive  appearances  of  age  oth- 
erwise. I  do  not  know  whether  I  told  you  of  a  visit  to  him 
of  his  only  brother  (seventy  years  of  age)  ten  days  ago.  He 
was  very  feeble  from  sickness,  and  they  will  never  meet 
again.  It  was  quite  an  affecting  sight ;  and  I  have  been 
looking  round  this  evening,  as  the  melancholy  of  the  closing 
year  steals  upon  us,  to  consider  the  number  of  aged  connex- 
ions who  seem  to  be  just  on  the  edge  of  life, — seven  over 
seventy.  In  the  course  of  nature  a  fev/  years  must  call  on  us 
to  surrender  many  of  them,  if  we  do  not  ourselves  go  first, 

VOL.  II.  17^ 


198  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE.    JR. 

which  may  very  possibly  be,  for  death  is  no  respecter  of  per- 
sons. 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you  to  make  your  passage  over  this 
line  of  the  year.  And  yet,  perhaps,  I  could  say  no  more 
than  to  urge  you  to  do  it  thoughtfully  and  religiously." 

*'  Cambridge,  March  S,  1839. 

"  The  first  part  of  your  letter  I  answered  to  Mr.  B .     I 

should  have  been  glad  that  it  might  have  been  affirmatively. 
As  regards  your  situation  at  Milton,  I  should  judge,  that,  if 
desired  to  remain  there,  in  such  wise  as  to  prove  that  your 
services  are  acceptable,  it  would  be  well  to  do  so.  It  is  a 
useful  occupation  of  your  time,  and  you  are  doing  good  ;  the 
unpalatableness  of  the  thing  w^ill  be  diminishing,  though  the 
real  satisfaction  may  be  small ;  but  this,  I  suppose,  is  true  of 
the  situation  in  which  most  men  pass  their  lives.  I  think  too, 
that  you  must  have  perceived,  that  a  right  use  of  the  proba- 
tion, to  which  it  subjects  you,  may  make  it  profitable  enough 
to  compensate  for  all  its  annoyances.  These  annoyances  are 
superficial  and  temporary, — the  moral  advantages  may  be 
deep  and  permanent.  Unless,  therefore,  an  opportunity  offer 
of  taking  a  pleasanter  school,  of  a  higher  order  and  smaller 
number,  I  think  your  true  course  w^ll  be  to  continue  where 
you  are. 

"  As  to  the  other  subject,  it  is  of  yet  deeper  and  more  vital 
interest.  All  the  wishes  of  my  heart  would  be  gratified,  and 
the  highest  purpose  of  my  life  fulfilled,  so  far  as  regards 
yourself,  in  seeing  you  truly  and  devotedly  a  minister ;  I  could 
pray  for  nothing  better  on  earth,  than  to  see  that  hour.  I 
have  ventured  to  hope  that  I  might  see  it ;  but  my  fears  have 
always  been  strongest.  Not,  certainly,  that  I  should  be  un- 
happy to  see  you  otherwise  engaged ;  for  a  good  man  in  any 
calling  is  an  honor ;  but  1  should  prefer  this  ;  and  you  may 
judge  then  how  readily  I  should  encourage  you  in  the  pur- 
pose you  are  cherishing.     I  had  not  supposed  that  you  could 


199 

yet  have  arrived  at  the  full  determination ;  though  I  had  hoped 
that  a  process  was  going  on  in  your  heart  and  character, 
which  might  result  in  it.  I  have  seen  some  signs  of  that 
process,  I  fancy  ;  but  I  had  not  supposed  it  had  proceeded  far 
enough  to  satisfy  you,  that  you  were  ready  to  begin  the  work 
of  preparatory  study.  If  your  resolution  is  not  founded  on 
erroneous  views, — if  you  have  made  yourself  fully  aware  of 
what  is,  and  ought  to  be,  implied  in  a  dedication  of  yourself 
to  this  work, — then  I  am  heartily  rejoiced  that  you  come  to  it 
so  early. 

"  But  I  am  very  anxious,  that  you  should  not  deceive  your- 
self; that  you  should  be  fully  awake  to  the  whole  meaning 
and  consequences  of  such  a  step ;  that  you  should  count  the 
cost,  as  our  Saviour  said  to  his  disciples  ;  and  should  find 
yourself  able  and  happy  to  abandon  everything  else,  and 
devote  yourself  to  this,  not  only  as  on  the  whole  the  most 
eligible  profession,  but  as  the  choice  of  your  soul,  from  which 
nothing  could  possibly  tempt  you.  This  is  the  state  to 
which  I  wish  to  see  you  come  ;  and  I  have  a  good  deal  to  say 
about  it.  I  hope,  therefore,  that  you  will  deliberate  and  do 
nothing  hastily.  I  feel  sure,  that,  the  more  you  deliberate, 
the  more  firm  will  be  your  purpose,  if  rightly  founded.  And, 
as  I  have  no  time  to  enlarge  now,  I  just  add  one  hint,  con- 
taining an  important  principle  by  which  to  try  yourself.  To 
make  a  good  and  happy  minister,  a  man  must  be  such  from 
taste  and  affection ;  he  must  be  a  religious  man  first ;  he  must 
be  a  minister  because  impelled  to  be  so  by  his  religion,  and 
not  be  religious  because  impelled  to  be  so  by  his  profession. 
I  could  be  happy,  therefore,  in  encouraging  you  to  this  great 
step,  just  in  proportion  as  I  had  cause  to  believe,  that  an  in- 
terest in  religious  things  had  become  the  chief  and  moving 
concern  in  your  mind. 

"  I  have  delayed  writing,  partly  because  we  thought  it  pos- 
sible you  might  be  here  yesterday,  and  partly  because  my 
eyes  are  very  bad,  and  I  have  not  been  able  to  use  them  more 


200  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

than  just  enough  to  get  through  my  regular  business.  In  this 
great  decision,  my  dear  boy,  let  us  earnestly  and  daily  seek 
guidance  from  Him,  who  is  all  light,  and  alone  can  lead  us 
aright." 

"  Cambridge,  March  10,  1S39. 

"  You  will  not- wonder,  that  the  great  matter  of  your  decis- 
ion dwells  on  my  mind,  as  I  suppose  it  fills  yours.  You  may 
judge  from  my  letter  (which  I  trust  you  received  yesterday) 
something  of  my  thoughts  concerning  it.  When  I  know 
more  exactly  what  is,  and  has  been,  passing  in  j'-our  mind,  I 
shall  be  better  able  to  judge  whether  1  say  anything  suited 
to  your  wants  or  not.  Meantime  I  wish  to  enlarge  a  little  on 
the  view  which  presents  itself  to  me,  and  we  can  compare 
opinions  afterward. 

"  Referring,  then,  to  the  general  statement  in  my  letter,  I 
take  it  for  granted,  that  your  tendency  to  elect  the  ministry 
for  your  calling  is  accompanied  by  the  determination  to  sus- 
tain that  personal  character  which  is  consonant  with  it,  and  to 
give  up  those  dispositions  and  tastes  which  are  incompatible. 
For  myself,  this  is  the  point  to  which  I  direct  my  whole  re- 
gard ;  for,  I  do  not  doubt,  as  far  as  intellectual  fitness  is  con- 
cerned, you  will  find  no  difficulty.  I  only  ask,  whether  the 
habitual  state  of  the  affections,  and  the  tastes  for  society  and 
life,  will  conform.  And,  as  in  all  cases  this  would  be  the 
first,  second,  and  third  consideration,  so  I  will  tell  you  why  I 
am  anxious  you  should  give  it  an  unusual  prominence. 

"  I  have  seen  many  young  men  break  away  from  the  com- 
mon routine  of  life,  and  devote  themselves  to  theological 
study,  with  so  slight  a  perception  of  the  change  they  needed 
to  undergo,  that  they  never  became  what  they  should  be, — 
never  were  equal  to  the  proper  work  they  had  undertaken, — 
never  found  any  satisfaction  in  it.  I  would  not  for  the  world 
have  you  such.  It  is  hard  to  see  others  so  mistakenly  enter 
the  service  of  the  church.  I  could  not  bear  to  see  a  son 
do  it 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  201 


"  Now,  habit  is  second  nature.  Dispositions  and  tastes, 
habitually  cherished  for  years,  become  our  masters,  and  are 
even  stronger  than  principle  ;  so  that  they  rule  us  in  spite  of 
ourselves,  unless  by  a  resolute  and  long-continued  effort  we 
subdue  them.  This  is  that  change  which  the  New  Testa- 
ment calls  regeneration;  and,  unless  a  man  go  through  it 
thoroughly,  so  as  to  be  altered  from  the  very  bottom,  (not 
superficially,  not  on  the  outside,  for  appearance'  sake,  but  in 
heart,)  he  cannot  be  fitted  to  succeed,  or  be  happy,  in  the 
ministry ;  nay,  not  as  a  Christian  man.  For  sacrifices  of 
taste  and  pleasure  must  be  made,  which  he  will  be  unable  to 
bear,  unless  he  have  acquired  a  deep  and  hearty  taste  for 
those  higher  blessings  of  the  soul,  which  spring  from  a  reli- 
ious  life. 

"  You  perceive,  then,  to  what  my  solicitude  points.  I 
think  that  your  mind  has  been  recurring  to  the  same.  What 
^I  wish  is,  to  urge  you  to  it  with  yet  more  earnestiless ;  so 
that  you  shall  not  leave  the  matter,  till  you  have  probed  it  to 
the  bottom,  and,  by  reading,  thought,  and  prayer,  have  delib- 
erately made  the  work  thorough. 

"Then  I  look  a  step  further,  and  I  ask,  supposing  you 
have  done  this,  and  to  be  confirmed  all  the  more  earnestly  in 
your  purpose, — Would  it  be  best  to  begin  your  professional 
course  this  fall  ?  I  think  it  premature  to  decide  that  question. 
I  do  not  yet  see  how  the  balance  inclines  between  the  very 
good  reasons  which  may  be  adduced  on  both  sides.  But  I 
confess,  that  so  much  as  this  appears  pretty  clear,  as  I  now 
see  it,  that  it  vs^'ould  be  best  to  pass  the  first  year  in  private 
study  with  some  clergyman,  and  enter  the  School  at  the  end 
of  the  first  year  of  the  course." 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

DECLINE  OF  HIS  HEALTH  — VISIT  TO  NEW  YORK— IS  TAKEN  ILL  IN 
THE  PULPIT  —  RETURNS  TO  CAMBRIDGE  — CONTINUED  INDISPOSITION 
—  RESIGNS  HIS  PROFESSORSHIP— REMOVES  TO  FRAmInGHAM- HIS 
CONDITION  AND  OCCUPATIONS  DURING  THE  AUTUMN  AND  WINTER 
OF    1S42-43  — LETTERS. 

1842-43.     2ET.  43-49. 

It  only  remains  now  to  record  the  closing  scenes  of 
his  life.  From  the  period  to  which  we  have  brought 
our  narrative,  there  was  a  slow  but  sure  decline. 
Accustomed  to  refrain  from  complaints  about  his  health, 
and  never  willing  to  plead  the  state  of  it  as  an  excuse 
for  omitting  any  exertion  which  he  thought  it  his  duty 
to  make,  so  long  as  it  was  possible  to  keep  from  his 
bed,  he  toiled  on  long  after  he  should  have  relinquished 
all  effort,  and  have  given  himself  that  rest  which  alone 
could  have  deferred  the  fatal  event.  His  disposition  for 
useful  occupation,  his  interest  in  his  work,  never  left 
him.  Like  the  spent  swimmer,  wlio  still  hopefully 
contends  with  the  current  that  is  sweeping  him  rapidly 
onward  to  a  certain  death,  he  too  struggled  manfully, 
striving  and  hoping  to  the  very  last.  It  is  quite  proba- 
ble, that  an  earlier  retreat  from  his  post  might  have 
done  something  to  prolong  his  life ;  and  our  first  feeling 
is  that  of  deep  regret,  that  this  step  was  not  taken. 
But  what,  after  all,  would  have  been  to  him,  or  to  his 
friends,  the  reprieve  of  a  few  short  months,  or  even 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE.   JR.  203 

years,  to  be  spent  in  listlessness  and  inactivity,  and  per- 
haps despondency,  whilst  the  maladies  which  were  to 
destroy  him  were  surely,  and  only  more  slowly,  doing 
their  work  ?  ^There  is  scarcely  any  doubt,  that,  for  sev- 
eral years,  whilst  the  apprehensions  of  his  friends  were 
directed  to  the  state  of  the  lungs,  from  which  he  had 
through  life  suffered  so  much,  disease  was  gradually 
and  insidiously  invading  other  organs,  and  exhausting 
the  energies  of  life  in  another  direction. 

But  the  first  very  distinct  indications  of  more  deep- 
seated  disease,  and  of  a  kind  differing  from  the  attacks 
under  which  he  had  before  suffered,  were  seen  during 
the  autumn  of  1841.  He  was  at  this  time  engaged  in 
the  preparation  of  his  Lectures  on  Ecclesiastical  His- 
tory, a  task  for  which  he  felt  himself  but  poorly  quali- 
fied by  his  previous  course  of  study,  and  upon  which  he 
entered  with  but  little  courage.  Indeed,  amidst  his 
other  engrossing  duties,  so  multifarious  as  well  as  labo- 
rious, he  found  this  new  field  of  exertion,  not  only  bur- 
densome, but  perplexing  and  vexatious.  He  held  on, 
however,  to  the  close  of  the  College  term,  in  the  second 
week  of  January,  but  then  found  himself  in  a  state  of 
great  exhaustion.  Early  in  this  month,  he  was  present 
at  a  large  meeting  of  the  members  of  the  family  in  Bos- 
ton :  and,  not  having  seen  him  for  a  long  time,  I  was 
made  anxious  by  his  wasted  and  haggard  look.  Still 
he  entered  with  his  usual  spirit  into  the  enjoyments  of 
the  evening.  The  impression,  however,  was  not  effaced ; 
and  it  was  satisfactory  to  me  to  learn,  that  he  had  made 
arrangements  to  spend  some  weeks  of  the .  vacation  in 
the  city  of  New  York,  away  from  the  occupations  and 
interruptions  which  would  attend  him  at  home,  and 
with  no  other  care  than  that  of  filling  the  pulpit  of  the 
church  of  Dr.  Dewey,  then  absent  in  Europe. 


204  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,  JR. 

Of  this  visit  he  kept  a  brief  journal.  It  was  his  plan 
to  pass  two  Sundays  of  his  absence  at  Baltimore  and 
Washington;  and  he  had  also,  as  he  records,  made 
arrangements  for  preaching  in  New  Jersey.  Such  were 
his  habitual  ideas  of  giving  himself  rest  from  labor. 

He  arrived  in  New  York  on  the  13th  of  January,  and 
took  lodgings  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Isaac  Scott,  a  family 
connexion,  in  a  remote  part  of  the  city,  for  the  purpose 
of  having  his  time  much  at  his  command,  and  of  avoid- 
ing the  distraction  of  mind  and  the  fatigue,  which  would 
result  from  seeing  many  persons.  On  Sunday,  January 
16th,  he  preached  twice,  making  this  note  in  his  jour- 
nal :  ''Spoke  feebly  in  the  morning,  better  in  the  after- 
noon. Church  not  so  thin  as  I  expected,  the  day  bemg 
snowy."     Of  this  day  he  wrote  thus  to  his  wife : 

"  Thursday,  January  20,  1842. — After  telling  you  in  the 
letter  which  I  despatched  to-day,  that  the  mail  disappointed 
me,  I  found  your  letter  and  John's  at  Francis's  bookstore. 
Very,  very  welcome,  I  assure  you ;  for  I  am  pretty  lonely,  and 
have  time  to  think  of  you  much.  It  is  a  good  deal  for  you  to 
find  the  chance  of  writing  so  much,  and  I  value  it  the  more. 
The  subject  on  which  you  particularly  speak,  is  one  that  exer- 
cises my  mind  a  good  deal,  but  about  which  I  despair  of  doing 
what  is  to  be  done,  unless  we  can  change  our  miserable,  hur- 
ried, and  bustling  life  ;  and,  as  you  set  it  forth,  it  is  a  great 
reason  for  change.  You  want  to  know  more  about  my  Sun- 
day. I  do  not  remember  what  I  have  written,  but  I  presume 
I  have  nothing  to  add,  except  that  I  preached  the  sermon  on 
'  The  Eeality  of  Religion,'  which  you  last  heard,  and  in  the 
evening  '  The  Sentence  of  an  Evil  Work.'  I  was  not  in  good 
case ;  but  am  more  than  ever  satisfied  that  my  preaching  pow- 
ers have  sensibly  deteriorated.  I  am  trying  to  write  a  sermon 
on  the  State  of  the  Religious  Community ;  and  have  written 
more  than  enough,  but  not  satisfactorily." 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  205 

Through  the  week  he  was  much  abroad  in  the  open 
air,  walking  a  good  deal  about  the  city,  and  visiting 
many  of  his  old  friends.  The  weather  was  for  the  most 
part  fine  and  mild.  He  read  also  a  good  deal,  and  fin- 
ished the  sermon  referred  to  in  the  preceding  letter,  in 
the  preparation  of  which  he  was  much  interested.  He 
notes  during  this  time,  nearly  every  day,  some  feelings 
of  indisposition,  showing  that  the  state  of  his  health  was 
such  as  to  call  to  it  his  frequent  attention.  He  men- 
tions particularly,  as  ''quite  a  common  thing  Avith  me 
of  late,"  the  occurrence  of  a  headache  on  rising  in  the 
morning,  which  went  ofi"  after  breakfast. 

On  Sunday,  January  23d,  he  makes  only  the  follow- 
ing record.  "  Rose  at  eight.  Very  cold.  Felt  rpiaver- 
ish.  Taken  ill  in  church.  Drs.  Perkins  and  Revere 
visit  me  twice.  Write  home.  Many  friends  call."  He 
entered  the  pulpit  this  day  for  the  last  time.  He  began 
the  services  in  the  usual  manner,  but  had  proceeded 
only  about  half  way  through  the  first  prayer,  when  it 
was  observed  that  his  voice  faltered  and  that  he 
coughed ;  but  he  still  went  on  and  finished  the  prayer, 
and  then  read  the  hymn.  He  then  sat  down  for  a 
while,  but  soon  very  deliberately  rose,  and  stated  to  the 
audience,  that  he  felt  himself  suddenly  too  much  indis- 
posed to  go  on  with  the  services.  He  therefore  dis- 
missed the  congregation  and  went  into  the  vestry-room. 
Hither  he  was  immediately  followed  by  Dr.  Revere, 
who  has  kindly  given  me  the  above  account,  and  adds : 

"  I  immediately  followed  and  found  him  unusually  pale,  his 
hands  cold,  and  his  pulse  thready,  frequent,  and  unequal.  I 
inquired  the  nature  of  his  illness.  He  replied,  that  he  had  not 
felt  so  well  as  usual  before  church ;  but  that,  having  coughed 

VOL.  n.  18 


206 


JR. 


during  the  prayer,  he  found  that  he  had  spit  up  a  quantity  of 
blood,  which  he  showed  me  on  his  handkerchief.  Though  his 
manner  was  quite  calm  and  self-possessed,  I  saw  at  a  glance, 
that  he  supposed  that  the  hemorrhage  was  from  the  lungs, 
and  was  of  ominous  import.  On  examining  his  face  carefully, 
I  thought  I  could  see  a  stain  of  blood  on  the  upper  lip,  and 
desired  him  to  blow  his  nose,  which  was  followed  by  a  con- 
siderable discharge  of  blood,  by  which  he  appeared  to  be 
assured." 

It  was  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Revere,  and  also  of  Dr. 
Perkins,  who  soon  after  visited  him,  that  the  hemor- 
rhage was  not  from  the  lungs,  and  was  not  in  itself  of 
serious  import,  which  proved  to  be  the  correct  view  of 
his  case ;  for  he  had  no  indications  subsequently  to  this 
period  of  any  disease  of  the  lungs,  and  nothing  remain- 
ed the  next  day  as  the  consequence  of  this  attack  except 
a  state  of  utter  prostration. 

I  subjoin,  as  quite  characteristic,  his  own  accoimt  of 
this  attack,  which  he  felt  at  the  time  to  be  of  some  im- 
portance, and  which  actually  closed  his  career  of  activ- 
ity, and  put  an  end  to  his  public  life.  He  writes  thus 
to  his  wife  in  the  course  of  the  day : 

"  Sunday.— K  good  day  yesterday,  but  the  change  of 
weather  affected  me  unpleasantly.  [The  weather,  which  had 
through  the  week  been  so  mild,  had  on  Saturday  become  cold 
and  windy,  and  on  Sunday  morning  was  very  cold.]  Com- 
pleted a  sermon  on  the  times,  which  I  was  anxious  to  preach. 
Did  not  feel  very  well  when  I  rose  this  morning.     (By  the 

way,  E came  home  in  the  night,  to  the  great  rejoicing  of 

all.)  I  had  a  good  deal  of  trial  in  speaking  this  morning; 
and,  after  I  got  through  the  first  prayer,  was  a  little  startled 
at  a  show  of  blood  in  my  mouth.  I  tried  all  sorts  of  experi- 
ments to  ascertain  where  it  came  from,  and  soon  decided,  after 


LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  207 

reading  the  hymn,  that  I  had  hetter  not  go  on.  So  I  dismissed 
the  congregation  without  a  sermon.  Dr.  Kevere  came  to  me 
in  the  Vestry,  and  doubted  whether  it  were  from  the  lungs, 
and  I  began  to  think  I  had  done  foolishly ;  but  he  said,  No, 
for  my  system  was  excited,  and  I  should  have  hurt  myself. 
So  I  went  home,  he  with  me,  and  Dr.  Perkins  soon  came  in ; 
and  they  agreed  that  they  could  not  tell  whether  it  were  a 
serious  thing  or  not,  but  I  must  keep  quiet  and  take  medicine. 
This  was  two  hours  ago,  and  I  write  at  once,  that  you  may 
hear  from  me  before  the  rumor  reaches  Cambridge.  I  trust 
that  it  is  nothing  of  moment;  but  we  cannot  tell ;  and  I  have 
so  long  lived  upon  uncertainty,  that,  come  what  will,  I  am  not 
greatly  taken  by  surprise.  I  think  you  will  not  be.  In  open- 
ing my  Bible,  I  just  came  to  the  verse, — '  He  is  not  afraid  of 
evil  tidings  ;  his  heart  is  fixed,  trusting  in  the  Lord ! '  There 
is  a  great  comfort  there.  Mr.  Eaton  waits  for  the  letter.  1 
am  still  expectorating  colored  matter.  Love  and  peace,  dear- 
est. I  suppose  that  I  m.ust  come  home ;  and  so  end  all  my 
schemes.  Well,  so  be  it.  A  thousand  loves  to  the  children. 
I  shall  wTite  again  unless  I  am  ordered  home  at  once." 

The  same  evening  he  wrote  again  : 

"  I  have  been  much  refreshed  by  sleep,  and  relieved  by 
medicine.  Dr.  Revere  and  Dr.  Perkins  have  both  paid  a 
second  visit,  and  leave  no  further  directions.  They  will  not 
say  whether  I  can  go  home  at  once,  but,  I  suppose,  will 
let  me  go  on  Tuesday.  They  say  I  cannot  preach,  if  I  stay. 
It  is  a  grievous  disappointment  to  me,  as  it  puts  an  end  to  very 
fond  plans,  and  changes  my  whole  winter,  if  nothing  more.  I 
do  not  presume  to  look  further.  I  presume  that  the  attack  is 
one,  which,  w^ith  due  care,  will  pass  away,  and  leave  me  to 
pursue  my  studies  next  term  ;  but  it  would  not  be  strange,  if 
it  should  prove  something  worse,  and  were  to  drive  me  for  a 
time  from  all  employment.      I  shall  try  to  bear  with  equa- 


208  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

nimity  the  prospect  and  the  resuU ;  but,  if  I  am  to  be  so  set 
aside,  I  do  not  know  where  bread  is  to  come  from,  and  the  strug- 
gle will  be  severe.  But  I  shall  not  look  on  the  dark  side.  None 
of  us  must;  let  us  wait, — have  patience, — be  trustful; — we 
have  infinite  causes  for  gratitude  and  none  for  complaint,  and 
I  hope  we  have  faith  enough  left  to  receive  meekly  and  cheer- 
fully any  appointment  that  is  in  store  for  us.  Friends  are 
very  kind.  Of  course  the  circumstances  and  publicity  make 
an  excitement.  This  is  painful  and  mortifying.  I  at  some 
moments  think  it  would  have  been  better  to  run  the  risk  of 
going  through  the  service,  and  avoid  the  sensation  ;  but  I  sup- 
pose the  counsels  of  prudence  rightly  prevailed.  Indeed,  I  am 
sure  that  I  could  not  have  continued  to  speak  loud.  But,  to 
think  of  being  exposed  to  such  a  public  infelicity  !  It  is  a  very 
trying  part  of  it." 

Immediately  on  the  receipt  of  the  intelligence  of  this 
attack,  his  wife  left  home  to  join  him.  She  arrived  in 
New  York  on  Tuesday  morning,  and,  leaving  there  the 
same  afternoon,  returned  with  him  to  Camhridge  on 
Wednesday  morning.  There  was  at  that  time  no 
further  hemorrhage.  He  gradually  collected  a  little 
strength,  and  had  then  once  or  twice  a  slight  return  of 
bleeding,  but  not  accompanied  by  so  great  a  prostration. 
Still  he  felt  well  enough  to  attempt  the  performance  of 
his  College  duties ;  but,  after  a  fe,w  days,  he  again  gave 
way,  and  was  seized  with  an  acute  affection  of  the 
organs  of  digestion,  by  which  his  labors  were  suspended 
for  ten  weeks,  his  strength  even  then  being  very  imper- 
fectly restored.  This  was  accompanied  and  followed 
by  other  symptoms,  which  showed  too  well  how  fearfid 
an  inroad  had  been  made  on  his  constitution,  and  that 
the  worst  apprehensions  of  his  friends  were  probably  to 
be  painfully  realized. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  209 

It  was  now  quite  certain,  tliat  to  persevere  in  an 
attempt  to  perform  the  duties  of  his  office,  would  be  to 
sacrifice  the  httle  chance  which  remained  of  his  restora- 
tion. With  his  feelings  about  the  School,  his  knowl- 
edge of  its  necessities^,  and  his  disposition  to  work,  a 
continuance  in  the  place  without  performing  its  duties 
fully  would  have  been  only  a  source  of  discomfort,  dis- 
satisfaction, and  self-reproach.  Either  he  would  con- 
stantly have  made,  on  every  interval  or  alleviation  of 
disease,  some  injurious  effort,  or  else  he  would  have 
regarded  himself  as  a  useless  incumbrance  in  a  post 
which  should  be  filled  by  a  sound  and  able  man.  He 
determined,  therefore,  to  vacate  the  professorship  at  the 
close  of  the  academical  year  in  July,  and  to  seek  out 
some  quiet  and  remote  situation  in  the  country,  where, 
in  entire  relaxation  from  labor,  his  jaded  system  might 
possibly  be  recruited.  He  accordingly  sent  in  his  resig- 
nation to  the  President  of  the  University.  In  accept- 
ing it,  as  an  expression  of  their  regard  for  his  services, 
the  Government  of  the  College  voted  the  continuance 
of  his  salary  for  half  a  year  beyond  his  leaving  the 
office. 

After  making  excursions  into  various  parts  of  the 
country  with  the  view  of  finding  a  suitable  place  of 
abode,  he  at  length  selected  one  in  the  beautiful  town 
of  Framingham,  about  twenty  miles  from  Boston; 
and  thither,  with  his  family,  he  removed  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  month  of  July.  Notwithstanding  his 
great  bodily  infirmity,  he  had  assumed  a  portion  of  his 
accustonied  duties  about  the  middle  of  June.  During 
the  three  last  weeks  of  the  term,  he  gave  to  the  Senior 
Class  one  lecture  a  day,  and  to  the  whole  School  six 
lectures  on  Preaching.     It  had  been  his  earnest  desire 

VOL.  II.  18^ 


210 

to  preach  a  sermon  in  the  College  Chapel  on  the  last 
Sunday  of  the  term ;  and  it  was  with  no  small  sacrifice 
of  feeling,  that  he  became  at  length  persuaded,  that  it 
was  the  part  of  wisdom  to  forego  the  melancholy  pleas- 
ure which  this  would  have  afforded  him.  He  left  the 
School,  therefore,  and  the  University,  without  any  for- 
mal expression  of  those  feelings  of  which  his  heart  was 
fuU. 

On  this  occasion  he  received  from  his  pupils  a  parting 
testimony  of  their  regard,  in  the  form  of  a  letter,  from 
which  the  following  passages  are  taken  : 

*'  We  would  not  allow  you  to  leave  us,  without  telling  you 
what  we  feel  of  the  value  of  your  teachings,  and  thanking  you 
for  your  kind  care  and  concern  for  each  and  all  of  us.  We 
thank  3'ou  for  the  interest  you  have  taken  in  all  our  studies 
and  pursuits.  We  thank  you  for  the  patience  and  candor 
which  have  marked  your  intercourse  with  us  in  the  recitation- 
room,  for  your  wilHngness  and  desire  to  hear  all  our  doubts 
and  questionings,  to  know  the  mind  of  each  of  us,  and  to  give 
to  all  our  opinions  their  full  value.  We  thank  you  for  all  the 
important  hints  and  lessons  you  have  given  us  upon  the  vari- 
ous and  difficult  duties  of  the  Christian  ministry ;  lessons, 
which  we  trust  our  future  course  may  show  not  to  have  been 
lost  upon  us.  We  thank  you  for  the  constancy  in  meeting  us, 
which  sickness  and  pain  could  not  hinder ;  and  for  your  sin- 
gular diligence  and  earnestness  in  fitting  us  for  our  work  in 
the  world,  we  shall  never  cease  to  be  grateful. 

"  But  your  exertions  in  improving  and  filling  our  minds  are 
not  the  only,  or  the  chief,  subject  of  our  gratitude.  We  thank 
you  especially  as  our  spiritual  guide.  AVe  shall  long  remem- 
ber the  gentle  rebuke,  which  called  us,  almost  without  our 
knowing  it,  to  the  stricter  line  of  our  duty.  We  shall  long 
remember  the  mild  admonition  which  checked  without  wound- 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,  JR.  211 

ing,  yet  came  so  directly  home  to  our  hearts.  And  we  shall 
never  forget  those  needful  and  timely  counsels,  which  made  us 
feel,  that,  in  our  Professor,  we  had  also  a  friend  to  our  souls, 
and  which  deepened  and  strengthened  our  hope,  and  faith,  and 
love. 

"  Your  example,  beloved  Sir,  even  more  than  your  instruc- 
tions, has  taught  us  the  greatness  and  beaut};-  of  a  Christian 
life ;  and  for  this  we  are  grateful  to  the  Providence  which  has 
permitted  you  so  long  to  be  with  us.  In  your  uniform  cheer- 
fulness, in  your  submission  and  contentment  in  the  trials  and 
vexations  of  your  situation,  we  have  seemed  to  recognize  the 
true  temper  and  spirit  of  the  Christian.  And,  when  we  have 
seen  your  high  confidence  in  God,  our  hearts  have  been 
encouraged  to  trust  in  him  more  fully.  You  have  been  our 
friend  and  brother  in  ways  that  you  did  not  know  ;  and  we  are 
sure,  that,  wherever  you  go,  all  will  find  in  you  such  a  friend 
and  brother. 

"  Receive  now,  dear  Sir,  our  affectionate  farewell.  You 
have  long  been  with  us,  and  joined  in  our  daily  and  social 
devotions.  Though  you  may  no  more  be  present  at  our  altar, 
yet  our  prayers  there  shall  go  up  for  you,  and  our  hearts  shall 
be  warm  toward  you,  and  we  will  be  present  with  you  in  spirit. 
Here  we  may  not  meet  you  again,  but  we  look  confidently  to 
a  more  intimate  union  hereafter." 

Of  his  last  interview  with  the  School,  his  nephew, 
(now  the  Rev.  Joseph  H.  Allen,  of  Jamaica  Plain,) 
gives  me  the  following  account : 

"  It  was  Wednesday,  July  13th,  when  he  met  the  School 
for  the  last  time  in  the  Chapel.  The  lecture  he  gave  that 
morning  was  one  of  a  short  course  he  had  been  delivering  on 
Preaching.  The  subject  of  it  was,  '  Sentiment,  the  Relation 
of  Truth  to  the  Imagination  and  Feelings.'  '  Preach  experi- 
mentally^  not  as  a  discourser,  but  as  a  partaker.     Have  reli- 


212  LIFE    OF    HENRY   AVARE.    JR. 

gious  experience.  Speak  from  personal  knowledge ;  other- 
wise there  is  no  heartiness,  no  distinctness.  The  preacher 
must  have  felt  all ;  have  met  every  struggle.  Then  there  is 
no  embarrassment,  nor  dread  of  mistake.  The  power  of  the 
pulpit  depends  on  this  ;  and  this  is  icithin  the  reach  of  all. ^ 

"  This  shows  the  substance  and  tone  of  his  last  instructions 
to  the  School.  At  the  close  of  them  he  was  silent  for  a  few 
moments.  Then  he  said  a  very  few  words  in  reference  to  the 
letter  which  had  been  addressed  to  him  by  the  members  of  the 
School.  I  do  not  remember  what  he  said ;  hardly  anything 
is  left  on  my  mind  but  the  general  impression.  He  spoke  of 
the  partial  and  imperfect  success  he  had  met  with,  as  if  there 
were  only  one  feeling  with  him, — regret  that  he  had  not  done 
more.  He  was  too  much  subdued  by  his  own  emotion  to  say 
much  besides  this,  and  he  seemed  as  soon  as  possible  to  seek 
the  relief  of  uniting  with  the  School  in  prayer, — that  last 
prayer,  when  the  strength  of  the  man  whom  we  had  seen 
steadfast  and  unmoved,  patient  and  uncomplaining  through 
everything,  was  bowed  down  as  the  weakness  of  a  child  for 
the  moment,  and  then  rose  again,  calm,  unfaltering,  and  warm 
with  heartfelt  love.  That  hour  can  never  be  forgotten.  AVe 
can  only  pray,  that  something  of  its  spirit  may  dwell  with  us 
through  our  lives." 

I  insert  also  a  sketch,  found  in  his  own  hand-writing, 
of  tlie  short  address  above  referred  to,  in  which  he  gave 
vent  to  his  feelings  on  this  occasion,  and  took  his  leave 
of  this  cherished  sphere  of  duty. 

"  And  now  the  time  has  come  that  brings  to  a  close  my 
labors  here.  For  nearly  twelve  years  I  have  had  close  con- 
nexion with  the  succession  of  young  men  who,  in  this  place, 
have  pursued  the  most  interesting  studies,  in  preparation  for 
the  most  important  calling.  They  have  been  years  of  great 
anxiety  and  of  great  satisfaction.     If  I  could  look  back  upon 


21^ 

them  without  any  misgivings  as  to  my  own  capacity  and  fidel- 
ity, I  should  say,  that  no  life,  except  that  of  a  parish  minister, 
can  comprise  so  various  and  great  satisfactions.  But,  while  I 
see  much  that  I  could  wish  to  be  otherwise  on  my  own  part,  I 
must  say,  that,  with  the  pupils  of  the  Institution,  there  has 
rarely  been  any  cause  for  the  slightest  discontent ;  and,  for  the 
most  part,  my  connexion  with  you  has  been  one  of  cordiality, 
confidence,  and  gratification. 

"  I  am  now  to  bid  farewell  to  this  pleasant  scene  ;  and  I  can- 
not do  it  without  expressing  to  you  something  that  is  in  my 
heart,  as  I  think  of  the  past  and  survey  the  present.  I  heartily 
reciprocate  the  kindness  of  the  expressions,  which,  in  your 
farewell  letter,  you  have  used.  Let  me  thank  you  for  that 
letter.  I  could  have  wished  that  your  language  had  been  less 
expressive  on  some  points,  on  which  my  better  knowledge  of 
myself  makes  me  feel  it  to  be  undeserved.  But  one  stimulus 
to  improvement  always  is,  the  mortification  of  the  mind,  when 
one  feels  humbled  by  the  expression  of  an  undue  estimate  on 
the  part  of  others.  But,  as  a  token  of  your  friendship,  I  shall 
always  prize  it ;  and  you  may  be  assured,  that  I  shall  never 
cease  to  look  back  with  pleasure  on  the  circumstances  that 
have  attended  our  connexion  with  one  another.  I  can  never 
cease  to  take  an  interest  in  your  fortunes  and  labors.  I  shall 
follow  you  with  my  eye  and  my  heart,  wherever  you  shall  go, 
and  rejoice,  as  if  you  were  all  my  sons,  in  whatever  success 
and  honor  God  may  please  to  vouchsafe  to  you.  May  He 
crown  yoa  with  his  favor  ;  may  He  give  you  that  greatest  sat- 
isfaction of  seeing  the  fruit  of  your  labors  on  earth,  and  of 
being  welcomed  to  the  presence  of  your  Master  in  heaven." 

The  annual  visitation  of  the  School,  which  occurs  at 
the  close  of  the  academic  year,  took  place  on  the  15th 
of  July.  He  had  waited  only  for  this  occasion,  and 
immediately  afterwards  commenced  the  work  of  re- 
moval.    This  occupied  several  days:  and  it  was  not 


^14  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WAREj    JR. 

till  the  23d  of  the  month,  that  he  found  himself  really 
settled  in  his  new  home,  and  felt  that  he  had  indeed  left 
behind  him  all  his  old  occupations  and  interests,  —  that 
he  was,  for  the  first  time,  it  may  be  said,  since  the  days 
of  childhood,  entirely  at  leisure,  without  a  purpose, 
without  an  aim,  without  some  object  of  interest,  to 
the  accomplishment  of  which  all  his  powers  were  to  be 
devoted. 

The  condition  in  which  he  found  himself  was  un- 
doubtedly severely  trying  to  his  courage,  patience,  and 
hope.  It  was  not  merely,  that  he  was  separated  from 
an  institution  to  which  he  was  from  principle,  as  well 
as  feeling,  deeply  attached,— with  which  he  had  iden- 
tified himself,  —to  whose  prosperity  and  usefulness  he 
had  been  willing  to  devote  his  health,  his  life;— but  it 
was  a  separation  also  from  all  active  duty  in  that  pro- 
fession, which  had  in  him  swallowed  up  every  other 
interest,  and  engrossed  his  whole  soul  from  his  very 
boyhood.  It  was  not,  therefore,  as  in  the  case  of  leav- 
ing his  parish,  the  passing  merely  from  one  field  of  duty 
to  another,  in  which,  if  his  affections  were  not  more 
deeply  interested,  he  at  least  knew,  that  the  sphere  in 
which  he  was  to  work  was  a  wider  and  a  more  important 
one  than  any  single  parish  could  be,  and  that  therefore 
the  opportunity  for  being  useful  was  enlarged.  But,  in 
the  present  case,  there  was  no  such  alleviation  of  the 
painful  necessity  which  compelled  him  into  retirement. 
It  was  an  entire  withdrawal,  with  broken  health  and 
shattered  nerves,  from  all  the  scenes  of  active  life  ;  it 
was  surrendering  to  other  hands  the  post  at  which  he 
had  so  long  stood,  from  sheer  physical  inability  to 
maintain  it  longer.  He  would  have  liked  better,  I  do 
not  doubt,  to  have  kept  on,  were  it  possible,  with  even 


LIFE   OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  215 

diminished  capacities,  till  his  last  sickness  should  have 
found  him  still  on  the  spot,  and  summoned  him  away 
in  the  midst  of  active  duty ;  and  it  was  a  sore  tning 
thus  to  leave  his  labors,  Avith  the  prospect  before  him 
of  months,  perhaps  years,  of  incapacity  and  inactivity, 
— living  in  the  midst  of  a  community,  where  so  much 
was  to  be  done,  and  so  few  as  ready  and  willing  as 
himself  to  do  it. 

In  the  village  to  which  he  removed,  he  found  every- 
thing to  answer  his  anticipations.  Quiet  and  retired,  it 
yet  afforded  a  ready  access  to  all  his  friends  by  means 
of  the  railroad,  whilst-  it  was  at  the  same  time  suffi- 
ciently remote  to  prevent  that  constant  pressure  of  com- 
pany, to  which  he  had  always  been  exposed  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  which  had,  in  truth,  been  such,  as  to  prove 
wearisome  and  burdensome,  interfering  with  his  neces- 
sary duties,  and  often  with  the  desirable  privacy  of 
domestic  life.  He  lived  near  the  church  and  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Barry,  in 
whose  education  for  the  ministry  he  had  been  inter- 
ested, for  whom  he  entertained  a  warm  regard,  and 
whose  ministry  he  hoped  to  be  able  constantly  to  attend. 
The  inhabitants  of  the  place,  many  of  whom  were 
acquainted  with  his  character  and  had  listened  to  his 
preaching,  knowing  his  purpose  in  coming  among  them, 
reframed  with  a  considerate  kindness  from  breaking 
in  upon  that  seclusion,  which  was  now  so  necessary  to 
him. 

It  was  painful  at  this  time  to  witness  the  condition  to 
which  he  was  reduced.  His  feebleness  was  such,  that 
it  required  a  very  obvious  exertion  to  go  up  the  few 
steps  which  led  to  his  house.  He  could  walk  only  a 
short    distance   without   fatigue ;    and,    indeed,    could 


216 


JR. 


engage  in  no  occupation  or  exercise  which  imphed  the 
outlay  of  much  muscular  strength. .  Within  a  few 
years,  he  had  gradually  assumed  the  appearance  of  an 
age  far  beyond  that  to  which  he  had  actually  attained. 
His  countenance  was  pale  and  sallow,  his  body  ema- 
ciated, his  form  bent,  his  gait  uncertain  and  slow ;  so 
that  he  bore,  in  his  whole  aspect,  the  marks  both  of 
sickness  and  of  years.  He  had  hoped,  when  fixed  in 
Framingham,  to  be  able  to  resume  the  exercise  of  riding 
on  horseback,  which  had  formerly  proved  so  beneficial 
to  him ;  but  he  found  himself  inadequate  to  the  exer- 
tion. 

But,  though  he  had  sought  retirement  and  repose, 
inaction,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word,  was  utterly 
incompatible  with  his  nature.  To  have  some  pursuit 
was  an  essential  element  of  his  life ;  and,  in  order  to 
fill  up  the  comparative  leisure  which  he  now  enjoyed, 
he  looked  forward  to  several  plans  of  occupation. 
Among  them  was  the  preparation  of  a  Memoir  of  the 
life  of  the  venerable  Noah  Worcester,  the  Apostle  of 
Peace,  which  he  had  undertaken  at  the  request  of  his 
family.  In  this  task  he  felt  a  strong  interest,  from  his 
deep  sense  of  the  eminent  services,  which  had  been 
rendered  by  Dr.  Worcester  to  the  cause  of  humanity. 
During  this  autuixm  and  v.anter,  he  examined  the  mate- 
rials which  had  been  furnished,  arranged  the  principal 
facts,  and  made  considerable  progress  in  writing.  The 
result  of  his  labor  on  this  work  so  nearly  completed 
his  plan,  and  seemed,  to  those  who  had  proposed  the 
undertaking,  so  worthy  of  the  subject,  that,  in  the  year 
after  my  brother's  death,  it  Avas  given  to  the  public. 
A  preface,  many  notes,  and  a  concluding  c?iapter,  were 
added,  by  the  Reverend  Samuel  Worcester,  one  of  the 


JR.  217 

sons  of  the  deceased ;  but  the  chief  portion  of  the  work, 
which  extended  to  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  pages, 
was  printed  from  the  original  manuscript,  thus  written 
under  circumstances  of  much  depression  and  discourage- 
ment, and,  for  the  most  part,  "  with  great  heaviness,"  It 
liad  been  his  intention  also  to  superintend  the  instruction 
of  his  children  ;  but  he  found  it  so  difficult  to  command 
the  steady  attention  this  effort  required,  that  it  became 
necessary  for  him  gradually  to  relinquish  the  attempt. 

At  the  end  of  August  he  returned  to  Cambridge,  and 
spent  there  a  part  of  Commencement  week,  attending 
the  various  public  exercises,  and  apparently  enjoying 
them  as  usual.  From  some  little  minutes,  which  he 
kept  while  at  Framingham,  of  his  employments,  we 
find,  that,  during  the  first  three  months,  he  had  a  con- 
stant succession  of  visitors  from  among  his  relatives  and 
more  intimate  friends,  but  not  in  a  manner  or  to  an 
extent  that  burdened  him.  A  few  extracts  will  serve 
to  convey  some  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  his  time 
was  passed.  Of  the  period  from  the  3d  to  the  23d  of 
October,  he  says : 

*'  Out-door  work  and  exercise  occupied  this  time  of  a  very 
beautiful  season,  spent  not  with  much  method,  and  with  very 
little  study.  Attended  the  installation  of  Mr.  Stone  at  Sher- 
burne. Started  for  Pomfret;  weather  changed  ; — spent  a  day 
at  Worcester  and  returned.  Attended  a  convention  of  Unita- 
rian friends  at  Worcester,  October  18th,  19th,  20th  ;— interest- 
ing and  profitable." 

Of  the  period  from  this  to  the  end  of  the  year  he 
writes :  ^^ 

"  From  this  time  a  delightful  fall.  Our  visitors  gradually 
became  fewer.     We  enjoyed  health.      Made  two  visits  to 

VOL.  II.  19 


218  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR, 

Cambridge  and  Boston.  Association  at  Grafton.'  S.  Wor- 
cester spent  a  day  and  night,  (November  7th,)  preparing  a 
Memoir  of  his  father ;  finding  no  encouragement  to  print,  I 
laid  aside  all  preparation  for  the  present.  Did  hardly  any 
study ;  little  power  of  application ;  great  inequality  and  fre- 
quent derangement  of  health.  Attention  to  children's  studies 
interrupted  and  unequal ;  want  of  method,  &c.  Among  the 
books  read,  I  recall  the  following ;  some  aloud ;  besides 
innumerable  chapters  and  passages  at  random.  Nothing 
could  be  more  miscellaneous  ;  a  good  deal  of  Latin  in  scraps ; 
some  French,  some  Greek,  New  Testament.  Studied  Hebrew 
with  Belsham,  Stuart,  and  Wakefield,  Wrote  Review  on 
Peace  for  '  The  Christian  Examiner.'" 

Here  follo^vs  the  list,  of  about  forty  volumes,  to  which 
he  alludes,  of  works  of  biography,  history,  poetry,  and 
fiction.  Of  the  remainder  of  the  season  he  makes  the 
following  record : 

"The  winter  set  in  early  in  December.  Have  had  good 
sleighing  and  equal  cold  for  four  weeks.  To-day  (25th)  Pier- 
pont  preaches.  I  not  well  enough  to  be  abroad ;  poorly  for  some 
time  past.  Laying  plans  of  mental  occupation  for  new  year, 
in  order  to  do  something  if  possible  ;  hope  both  disposition  and 
ability  may  increase.  My  wish  is  to  complete  in  January  the 
Memoir  of  Worcester ;  and  during  the  season  to  finish  D.  L. 
['  Dream  of  Life,'  a  poem],  and  either  Xn.  Pr.  [his  work  on 
'  Christian  Progress ']  or  E.  on  P.  R.  ['  Essay  on  Practical  Reli- 
gion.'] I  could  do  the  whole,  if  tolerably  well  and  tolerably 
resolute." 

''•  The  month  of  December  cold,  equal ;  and  good  sleighing 
till  middle  of  March.  Very  miserable  most  of  the  ti«ie. 
Went  once  to  Boston  for  two  days.  Never  more  oppressed 
and  good  for  nothing,  than  for  about  four  weeks.  Utterly 
incapable  of  work.      During  this  period  wrote  nothing  but 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  219 

Review  of  Greenwood's  '  Sermons,'  and  four  short  Notices  for 
'  Tlie  Examiner;'  an  Anti-slavery  song ;  and,  with  great  heavi- 
ness, a  Httle  of  D.  L." 

During  a  part  of  the  autumn  there  was  a  very  con- 
siderable improvement  in  his  condition ;  not,  indeed,  any 
sign  of  a  permanent  restoration,  but  an  increase  of  appe- 
tite and  strength,  and  a  corresponding  change  in 
appearance.  He  was  able  to  take  more  exercise,  walked 
a  good  deal,  drove  around  in  his  carryall^  busied  him- 
self in  various  kinds  of  out-of-door  work  on  his  place, 
gathering  vegetables  and  fruit,  taking  care  of  his  horse, 
&c.  He  visited  Boston  in  December,  and  attended  the 
ordination  of  Mr.  Smith  as  the  Colleague  Pastor  of  his 
friend  Dr.  Parkman.  He  certainly  seemed  to  have 
gained  a  good  deal  in  many  particulars;  but  he  had 
that  about  him  which  precluded  a  well-grounded  belief, 
that  he  had  undergone  any  radical  change.  He  was 
still  exceedingly  thin;  he  had  gained  no  flesh.  He 
spoke  particularly  of  restless  and  sleepless  nights,  occa- 
sional headache,  frequent  nausea,  unequal  appetite,  and 
impaired  digestion ;  but,  above  all,  he  complained  of  an 
unconquerable  sense  of  fatigue  and  exhaustion,  which, 
although  resisted  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  and  not  so 
overcoming  him  as  to  prevent  much  reading  and  some 
bodily  exercise,  was  still  a  feeling  from  which  he  was 
never  entirely  free. 

The  following  letters,  written  during  this  period,  and, 
with  a  few  exceptions,  dated  at  Framingham,  Avill 
serve  to  illustrate  many  points  which  have  been  already 
adverted  to,  and  will  aid  in  conveying  some  idea  of  the 
state  of  his  body  and  mind,  his  views  of  his  condition, 
his  present  occupations,  and  his  hopeful  anticipations 


220 

of  future  profitable  employment.  In  explanation  of  the 
first  of  these  letters  it  should  be  stated,  that  it  was  well 
known,  that,  on  leaving  his  professorship,  he  was  cast- 
ing himself  and  his  family  on  the  Avorld,  with  very 
insuflicient  means  of  support.  Soon  after  settling  in 
Framingham,  he  received,  from  some  generous  friends 
in  Boston,  a  liberal  sum,  which  had  been  collected  and 
invested  for  his  family.  Similar  favors  had  been  previ- 
ously tendered  him  while  at  Cambridge,  when  the 
straitened  condition  of  his  finances  had  been  suspected ; 
but  these  had  been  firmly,  though  gratefully,  declined. 

to  abel  adams,  esq. 

"  September  8,  1842. 
"  When  I  last  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  you  inform- 
ed me  of  the  generous  purpose  of  some  of  my  kind  friends, 
to  do  something  toward  the  promotion  of  my  comfort  and  the 
confirmation  of  my  health.  What  I  said  at  that  time,  was  all 
that  1  could  say ;  and  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  add  anything 
to  express  my  deep  sense  of  the  gi*eat  favor  which  has  thus 
been  done  me.  Yet  I  will  write  one  line,  that  I  may  assure 
others  as  well  as  yourself,  that  I  accept  their  tokens  of  good- 
will with  the  heartiest  gratitude.  I  cannot  but  feel  humbled 
and  mortified,  when  such  large  favors  are  again  and  again 
bestowed  upon  me,  to  reflect  how  poorly  I  have  merited  them, 
and  I  sometimes  feel  inclined  to  refuse  them ;  but  then  I  re- 
member, that  to  do  so  would  indicate  a  false  pride.  I  ought 
not  to  be  unwilling  to  receive,  when  friends  say  they  are  grat-, 
ified  to  bestow  ;  and  I  cannot  deny,  that  it  gives  me  pleasure, 
as  it  does  them,  to  feel  that  their  kindness  Avill  enable  me  to 
look  with  less  anxiety  on  the  prospect  of  leaving  behind  me 
a  helpless  and  dependent  family.  They  have  done  much  to 
relieve  my  mind  of  a  heavy  burden  ;  and  I  say  from  the  bot- 
tom of  my  heart,  '  God  bless  them  !  ' 


LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  221 

"  Let  me  depend  on  your  friendly  offices  to  convey  to  them 
my  thankful  acknowledgments." 

TO    THE    KEV.    CHARLES    BRIGGS. 
(Agent  of  the  American  Unitarian  Association.) 

"  What  should  you  think  of  twelve  Tracts,  of  twelve  pages 
each,  made  up  of  choice  and  pithy  passages  selected  from  the 
periodicals  of  past  years,  and  from  eminent  writers  ? — narra- 
tive, doctrinal,  devotional,  &c.,  to  be  entitled,  '  Fragments,' 
and  numbered,  ^Basket  No.  1,  2,'  &c.,  w4th  the  motto  on  the 
title-page,  '  Gather  up, — that  nothing  be  lost ;  and  they  gath- 
ered up  twelve  baskets  full.'  If  the  Committee  should  fancy 
it,  I  think  I  could  undertake  it." 

TO    HIS    SON. 

"  New  York,  January  13,  1S42. 

"  Among  a  multitude  of  other  thoughts,  thoughts  of  you 
have  been  busy  with  me  since  I  left  you,  and  I  employ  an 
early  moment  to  tell  you  so.  Almost  my  last  occupation 
was  with  you,  and  in  relation  to  two  matters  Avhich  are  brim- 
full  of  interest.  You  may  guess,  but  cannot  know,  what  it  is 
for  a  father  to  anticipate  the  near  appearance  of  his  son  in  the 
place  of  a  minister;  and  your  going  so  unexpectedly  into 
King's  Chapel  makes  me  feel  the  reality  as  I  hardly  have 
done  before.  In  the  common  eye,  it  is  less  than  if  you  were 
going  to  preach,— hut  not  in  mine  ;  it  ought  not  to  be  in  any 
one's ,-  and  I  have  been  anxious  that  you  should  take  care  to 
make  it  a  very  real  and  substantial  act  of  devotion,  and  so  sol- 
emnize in  a  peculiar  manner  your  first  public  ministry  at  the 
altar.  Do  not  go  '  to  read  prayers  for  Dr.  Greenwood ; '  but 
go  to  offer  a  real  sacrifice  for  yourself  and  the  people,  and 
make  it  a  day  of  memorable  religious  worship  to  yourself. 
I  shall  think  much  of  you  ;— may  God  be  gracious  to  you." 

"  Or''  the  other  thing,  too,  of  your  sermon,  I  have  been 
thinking.     I  am  pleased  with  your  wisdom  in  preaching  from 

VOL.  n.  19* 


222  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WAEE,   JR. 

your  own  experience.  In  so  doing,  you  are  likely  to  strike 
the  universal  key  of  humanity,  and  thus  call  out  a  responsive 
note.  I  am  greatly  pleased,  too,  with  the  evident  pains  you 
have  been  willing  to  take  ;  it  gives  promise  and  encourage- 
ment ;  and,  if  you  will  continue  these  two  things, — careful- 
ness, and  the  practical  use  of  your  own  self-knowledge,— you. 
may  do  a  great  deal  to  compensate  for  the  disadvantage  you 
were  deploring  the  other  night.  No  knowledge  is  so  good  for 
the  minister,  as  that  derived  from  self-study ;  many  things 
have  concurred  to  addict  you  to  that,  as  I  perceive  ;  and  you 
cannot  pursue  it  without  a  reward,  alike  in  personal  improve- 
ment and  in  the  power  of  affecting  others." 

"  I  trust  and  hope  that  you  mean  to  be  one  of  those  wise  and 
true  men,  who  will  make  sermons  a  matter  of  self-application, 
and  not  think  their  work  done  when  others  apply  them." 

to  the  same. 
"  Framingham,  October,  18-12. 

"  I  was  very  glad  to  get  your  letter,  and  wish  I  could  meet 
you  at  Cambridge  this  week,  to  talk  it  over.  Yet  I  am  not 
sure  that  I  could  help  you.  Some  things  are  very  plain, 
some  very  perplexing ;  and  nobody  but  yourself  can  strike 
the  balance,  so  as  to  extricate  the  duty.  If  the  duty  were 
clear,  I  dare  say  you  would  have  no  hesitation.  Now,  to 
make  out  the  duty,  there  seem  to  be  these  points  to  be  consid- 
ered. 

"  1.  The  great  needs  of  the  place. 

"  2.  The  strength  and  unanimity  of  their  persuasion  that 
you  are  the  man  they  want ;  this  fact  must  be  ascertained 
clearly. 

*'3.  Do  other  circumstances  confirm  or  oppose  their  judg- 
ment in  this  thing  ? 

"  4.  Is  the  case  so  strong,  as  to  make  it  better  for  you  to 
labor  there,  than  to  go  on  as  you  are  doing  ? 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  223 

"  5.  Indeed,  it  is  now  a  question  to  be  decided,  whether 
your  improvement  will  be  more  consuUed  by  continuing  this 
attempt  at  solitary  study,  or  by  going-  into  the  midst  of  parish 
duties  ;  and,  if  the  latter,  would  it  be  better  to  assume  a  per- 
manent charge,  or  to  make  experiment  of  a  temporary  engage- 
ment ? 

"  I  am  much  inclined  to  think,  that  you  would  now  be  a 
gainer  by  residence  in  a  parish  ;  it  would  present  many  forms 
of  action  to  try  and  bring  out  advantageously  your  powers, 
as  well  as  to  make  you  feel  that  you  are  living  to  some  use  ; 
but  I  should  think  a  temporary  engagement  more  advisable 
than   a  permanent  one.     Three  or  six  months'  residence  at 

,  if  they  would  like  it,  might  be  well  worth  the  while  ; 

it  could  be  done  in  perfect  consistency  with  your  declining  to 
be  a  candidate  ;  it  might  end  in  your  finding  the  place  such 
a  field  as  you  would  entirely  prefer  ;  it  might  end  in  a  mutual 
conviction  that  it  is  not  yoar  post :  at  any  rate,  it  would  have 
the  recommendation  of  showing,  that  you  are  perfectly  dis- 
posed to  meet  all  wishes,  and  have  no  merely  selfish  views. 
In  a  word,  would  not  a  few  months  so  spent,  there  or  else- 
where, be,  on  the  whole,  more  satisfactory,  than  a  continued 
residence  at  Cambridge ;  even  for  study  would  it  not  accom- 
plish as  much,  might  it  not  be  as  profitable  for  the  society  as 
a  settlement,  and  still  leave  the  settlement  an  open  question  ? 
There  is  a  great  deal  to  be  said  and  weighed,  which  I  cannot 
hint  at.  In  such  cases  one's  mind  settles  by  degrees,  as  time 
proceeds ;  and  I  dare  say,  that  ten  days  on  the  spot  will  bring 
you  to  a  conclusion,  in  which  you  will  have  no  misgiving. 
Be  candid,  cautious,  deliberate ;  throw  aside  personal  prefer- 
ences ;  and  insist  on  making  it  a  mere  question  of  duty ; — and 
may  God  lead  and  bless  you. 

"  We  had  a  most  blessed  time  at  Worcester ;  a  happier, 
more  hearty,  more  religious,  and  more  improving  season, 
could  not  be.     Mr.  Gannett's  sermon  threw  a  bright  and  glo- 


224  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

rious  light  about  us,  made  a  deep  impression,  and  gave  a  most 
felicitous  tone  to  the  whole  occasion.  About  sixty,  clerical 
and  lay,  were  present  from  abroad.  Emotions  were  deep  and 
fervent.  The  influence  of  Dr.  Channing's  recent  death  was 
evident.  We  all  went  home  '  to  thank  God  and  take  cour- 
age.' " 

TO    THE    SAME. 
(At  Fall  River.) 

"  Framingha3I,  Degember  13,  1S42. 
"  It  seems  to  me,  that,  if  I  knew  exactly  where  you  are 
sitting,  and  what  you  are  doing,  and  the  shape  and  furni- 
ture of  your  apartment,  I  could  more  easily  begin  speaking  to 
you.  I  seem  now  to  be  aiming  at  a  nonentity,  and  talking  to 
space ;  but,  as  you  are  somewhere,  and  '  Uncle  Sam '  knows 
how  to  get  at  you,  I  will  make  imagination  do  the  work  of 
knowledge,  and  feeling  feel  you  out.  About  one  thing  I  can 
make  no  mistake  :  the  hours  are  long  and  solitary  in  that  cham- 
ber of  3'0«rs,  and  you  sometimes  get. tired  of  your  lonelir\ess, 
and  fall  to  reverie  more  than  study.  I  remember  my  early  days 
in  Beverly,  in  Exeter,  and  even  in  Boston  ;  and  they  were 
among  the  most  wholesome,  too,  that  I  ever  spent.  Since 
then,  I  have  had  so  much  of  the  crowd  and  bustle  of  life, 
that  I  have  been  living  on  the  nourishment  I  gained  in  those 
times  of  quiet  self-companionship,  as  the  bear  lives  in  winter 
on  the  fat  it  laid  up  in  summer ;  and  I  have  become  like  the 
bear  in  spring,  quite  lean  and  destitute,  needing  the  refresh- 
ment of  another  season  to  recruit  my  spiritual  being.  Now 
is  your  time  for  fattening,  or  more  properly  training,  your 
soul,  and  for  proving  the  truth  of  Paley's  maxim, '  Live  much 
alone.'  There  is  no  such  preparation  for  profitable  living 
among  men,  as  much  living  away  from  them.  I  am  glad, 
for  this,  as  well  as  for  many  other  reasons,  that  you  should 
have  this  winter's  opportunity.  It  is  shorter  than  Paul's  three 
years  in  Arabia,  but  you  will  try  to  make  it  as  valuable  ;  and 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR.  225 

I  do  not  doubt  you  will  aways  look  back  on  it,  as  containing 
many  of  your  golden  days. 

"  Two  or  three  things  let  me  hint  to  you.  There  is  danger 
that  you  may  over-use  your  eyes.  Be  careful  and  judicious  ; 
avoid  too  much  night  study  ;  you  can  afford  to  do  nothing  by 
candle-light,  if  j^ou  use  well  your  six  hours  of  day-light. 
My  early  error  in  this  respect  has  cost  me  very  dear.  Resist 
the  tendency  to  non-activity  of  body.  I  spoke  about  it  the 
other  day  ;  and,  as  I  have  suffered  from  this  cause  too,  I  am 
very  anxious  to  save  you  from  my  error.  Be  as  active  as 
you  have  been.  You  may  help  your  eyes,  and  your  mind, 
essentially,  by  accustoming  yourself  to  study,  (that  is,  in 
thinking,)  while  taking  your  walks ;  and  then  you  will  avoid 
the  feeling  by  which  many  excuse  their  neglect,  the  feeling 
that  they  are  losing  time.  Ten  minutes'  study  without  book 
or  pen,  is  worth  as  much  as  half  an  hour  with  them ;  and  it 
adds  to  the  exhilaration  of  a  walk  to  be  making  orations 
meantime.  I  have  been  reading  the  lives  of  Richter  and  Wil- 
berforce ;  and  I  am  struck  with  the  fact,  that  both  loved  to 
study  in  the  open  air,  and  to  compose  while  walking,  and 
recommend  the  practice.  It  is  the  habit  of  Dr.  Beecher,  and 
of  Mr.  Gannett,  who  thus  prepare  their  unwritten  addresses. 
This  saves  eyes  and  health,  and  disciplines  the  mind. 

"  This  solitary  winter  may  be  invaluable,  as  helping  to 
form  the  habit  of  making  a  reference  to  God  in  everything, 
and  of  living  perpetually  in  religious  communion  ; — the  first, 
last,  and  chief  thing,  and  yet  that  in  which  we  are  most  of 
all  apt  to  be  remiss.  It  would  be  well  worth  six  months' 
dwelling  in  a  hermitage,  like  the  old  anchorites,  if  we  could 
gain  thereby  the  true  life  of  God  in  our  souls.  Pray  be  wise 
enough  not  to  throw  aw\ay  the  advantages  of  this  winter ; 
when  you  have  great  help,  too,  in  the  fresh  feehng  of  your 
newly-assumed  responsibilities. 

"  We  are  all  as  well  as  usual ;  the  children  greatly  enjoy- 
ing the  snow,  and  very  busy  in  their  studies.     We  are  quite 


226  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

by  ourselves,  and  learning  to  be  systematic.  My  study  hours 
accomplish  little;  I  have  very  little  power  of  application,  and 
grow  more  and  more  sensible  that  I  am  becoming  good  for 
nothing.  Perhaps  it  is  doubtful  whether  I  shall  ever  rally 
to  any  good  effect.  The  recent  kindness  of  my  friends,  in 
making  provision  for  future  days,  is  inexpressibly  comforting 
to  me,  as  I  can  live  or  die  without  any  worldly  anxiety  on  my 
mind.     I  hope  and  trust.     All  good  be  yours." 

•  TO    THE    KEV.  RICHARD  L.  CARPENTER. 

"  Framingham,  December  2S,  1S42. 
"  My  dear  Sir, 

"  I  have  just  had  the  pleasure  of  receiving  the  letters  of 

yourself  and  your  sisters,  by  Miss  H ,  (whom  I  have  not 

seen,  being  twenty  miles  from  Boston,  in  this  my  hermitage.) 
I  beg  you  to  give  to  them  my  heartiest  thanks,  and  assure 
them  that  the  satisfaction,  which  their  friendly  remembrance 
gives  me,  shall  be  made  known  to  them  under  my  proper 
hand  and  seal.  By  the  present  opportunity  I  must  content 
myself  with  hastily  acknowledging  your  kindness  in  writing 
to  me.  It  has  delightfully  brought  to  me  the  image  of  your 
father,  and  makes  me  feel,  that,  even  on  this  side  the  Jordan, 
I  shall  not  be  wholly  separated  from  him.  May  you  live  to 
be  what  he  was,  and  to  supply  all  his  places.  Since  I  saw 
him,  what  a  change  in  the  circle  that  he  and  I  loved  !  Him- 
self, Channing,  Tuckerman,  Worcester,  Follen,  gone  to  the 
land  of  souls  !  How  is  their  place  to  be  filled  ?  I  do  not 
know  how  it  may  be  on  your  side  of  the  sea ;  but  here,  I 
look  about  me,  and  see  among  our  younger  brethren  many 
spirits  worthy  to  follow  such  fathers,  and  gloriously  preparing 
to  carry  on  their  work.  Great  activity  of  soul  there  is,  and 
great  eagerness  ;  some  restlessness,  some  folly  of  speculation  ; 
but  there  is  also  great  soundness,  steadfastness,  and  true  pro- 
gress, which  it  would  rejoice  you  to  witness,  and  which  give 
assurance  of  increasing  day. 


LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  227 

"  We,  perhaps,  never  had  a  heartier  confidence  in  the  sta- 
bility of  our  congregations  than  at  this  time ;  there  is  a  devel- 
opment of  personal  religion  and  strong  spiritual  life,  which 
is  most  truly  comforting. 

"  I  am  mortitied,  that,  after  taking  great  pains  to  prevent  it, 
I  cannot  succeed  in  hindering  the  Post-Office  from  laying  its  all- 
grasping  hands  on  my  packages.  I  have  almost  done  sending 
anything  to  my  friends.  I  think  that  some  of  my  father's  Disser- 
tations will  gratify  you  ;  though,  as  you  observe,  their  subjects 
are  of  the  elementary  and  familiar  kind.  He  is  seventy-eight 
years  old,  very  nearly  blind,  somewhat  deaf,  subject,  therefore, 
to  great  trial  and  infirmity ;  but,  withal,  greatly  happy  in  a 
Christian's  hopes,  and  with  domestic  blessings  unusual.  A 
numerous  family  settled  all  around  him;  two  sons,  one  grand- 
son, and  three  sons-in-law,  engaged  in  the  ministry  within  a 
few  miles.  That  grand-son  is  my  oldest  boy.  How  1  should 
like,  if  it  were  possible,  that  he,  and  you,  and  your  brother, 
should  meet  and  know  each  other.  Perhaps  it  may  be.  One 
of  you  may  come  hither;  he  may  go  to  England;  anything  is 
possible,  and  anything  may  be  hoped.     Let  us  hope  it. 

"  You  kindly  speak  of  my  health.  I  have  but  a  broken 
constitution,  I  fear.  I  have  not  preached  for  eleven  months. 
I  have  retired  into  absolute  rest  at  this  village,  and  am,  I 
think,  recruiting.  I  hope  to  begin  to  WTite  again  in  the 
spring.  The  College  treated  me  with  the  greatest  generosity, 
and  enabled  me,  with  the  help  of  some  admirable  friends,  to 
live  on  for  a  season  in  idleness.  They  have  reheved  me  from 
all  anxiety  about  my  family's  support ;  and,  if  perfect  restora- 
tion is  possible,  have  given  me  the  opportunity.  God  bless 
them  for  their  love  ! " 

to  an  ag£d  relative. 

"  Framingham,  December  20,  1842. 
"  We,  in  this  our  banishment,  are  in  good  condition,  and 
enjoy  ourselves.     I  believe  that  all  but  my  own  personal  self 


228  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

have  grown  fat;  we  certainly  are  very  happy  here,  though  I 
do  not  become  stout  and  hearty.     When  last  at  Cambridge, 

we  heard  of  aunt  S 's  visit,  and  could  not  but  regret  we 

were  not  there  to  take  part  in  the  pleasure.  Having  once  left 
the  old  home  in  this  way,  we  shall  hope  that  we  may  see  her 
under  our  roof  as  soon  as  we  have  a  roof  within  reasonable 
reach  of  you.  When  and  where  that  will  be,  God  only  knows. 
No  persons  live  in  a  state  of  greater  uncertainty  than  we  do. 
We  are  most  strictly  pilgrims  and  strangers  now ;  and  we  have 
constant  admonitions  that  the  world  is  fast  passing  away  and 
we  growing  old.  How  many  of  the  family  have  come  to  such 
a  length  of  years,  that  they  stand  on  the  borders  of  the  region 
of  perpetual  youth,  and  must  ere  long  exchange  gray  hairs  and 
feeble  limbs,  for  everlasting  smiles,  and  vigor  that  cannot  die. 
Father  evidently  fails,  and  may  leave  us  at  any  time.  With- 
out sight,  and  with  imperfect  hearing,  life  would  soon  become 
a  burden,  if  lengthened  out." 

TO    THE    REV.    C.    BRIGGS. 

"  FEBRrARY  17,  1843. 
"  I  cannot  express  how  unhappy  your  letter  makes  me. 
God  knows  I  long  to  be  at  work,  and  should  count  it  a  great 
privilege  to  be  put  into  such  a  field  as  Albany  presents.  And 
to  be  obliged  to  decline  it,  makes  my  spirit  sink.  I  almost  fear 
that  I  am  never  to  be  allowed  to  labor  in  the  good  work  again. 
I  have  been  in  a  very  poor  state  for  two  months  past,  and  the 
doctor  says  I  must  not  hope  to  preach  for  an  indefinite  time ; 
he  even  hints  at  years  of  comparative  or  absolute  silence. 
What  can  I  do  ?  I  hope  to  have  faith  and  patience  ;  but  you 
see  I  cannot  go  to  Albany.  I  have  been  recruiting  during  the 
last  fortnight,  and  hope  to  revive  with  the  spring.  Blessings 
on  you  and  your  fellow-laborers." 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   AVARE,    JR. 


TO    MRS.    FARRAR. 


229 


"  Framingham,  January  14,  1843. 
"  My  dear  Mrs.  Farrar, 

"  Mary  produces  for  me,  from  her  bundle,  a  luxurious  show 
of  morocco  and  fur,  into  which  she  says  I  am  requested  to 
thrust  my  two  lower  extremities,  that  I  may  be  as  warm-footed 
as  my  friends  are  warm-hearted.  On  trial  of  their  commodi- 
ousness,  I  pronounce  them  to  be  as  snug  as  they  are  comfort- 
able,— fitting  close  without  pinching, — and  prompting  the  wish 
(a  New  Year's  wish)  that  the  provider  of  them  may,  from  the 
sole  of  the  foot  to  the  soul  of  the  body,  be  en  wrapt  and  de- 
fended in  an  equally  pleasant  and  sufficient  protection  from  all 
evil. 

"It  is  sad  to  have  no  better  tidings  of  Mr.  Farrar's  welfare. 
I  feel  almost  a  well  man  in  my  forlornest  moments,  when  I 
think  of  his  afflictions,  and  perhaps  I  sympathize  with  him,  and 
think  of  him,  all  the  more  deeply  and  often,  for  imagining  in 
those  dreary  moments  that  I  may  be  following  hard  after  him. 
At  any  rate,  my  best  wishes  and  heartiest  respects  attend  him. 
*  Sorrow  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morn- 
ing.' 

"  His  and  your  proposal,  that  we  should  share  the  last  rest- 
ing-place together,  is  a  most  grateful  one  to  me.  I  receive  it 
with  thanks  and  pleasure.  You  do  not  know,  and  he  does  not 
know,  that  I  have  some  very  peculiar  recollections  and  associ- 
ations, which  make  my  whole  feelings  towards  him  peculiar. 
He  did  me  two  kindnesses  in  College, — slight  to  him,  who 
was  always  doing  kindness, — probably  forgotten  as  soon  as 
done, — but  to  me  great,  and  leaving  an  ineffaceable  impression; 
and  his  image  has  always  been  connected  with  them  to  the 
present  day.  I  have  a  special  happiness  in  having  been  cast 
so  much  with  him  on  that  account,  and  in  finding  him  and  his 
so  thinking  of  me  and  mine,  as  to  connect  us  in  his  arrange- 
ments when  thinking  of  the  great  transition  from  world  to 
world.     I  used  to  think  I  should  never  care  at  all  where  my 

VOL.  IL  20 


230 


bones  should  rest ;  and  in  one  view  I  do  not.  But,  as  I  draw 
nearer  to  the  hour,  I  feel  my  heart  fluttering  at  the  thought 
of  reposing  by  those  whom  I  honor  and  love ;  and  there  is  a 
certain  satisfaction  in  the  anticipation  of  a  common  and  united 
repose.  You  will,  therefore,  make  him  underst^d  how 
kindly  we  take  this  proof  of  his  and  your  regard,  and  connect 
it,  in  our  own  thoughts,  with  that  future  rising  which  shall 
restore  and  reestablish  our  friendship,  where  there  will  be  no 
bodies  to  clog  our  full  enjoyment,  and  make  love  anxious,  as  it 
is  here. 

"  With  hearty  respect  and  love  to  you  both, 
"  Very  truly, 

"H.  Wake,  Jr' 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

VISIT  TO  BOSTON — REPEATED  ATTACKS  OF  ILLNESS  THERE  —  HE  RE- 
TURNS TO  FRAMINGHAM  — JOURNEY  TO  PLYMOUTH,  FALL  RIVER, 
AND  PROVIDENCE— IMPROVEMENT  AFTER  HIS  RETURN  HOME  — IS 
SEIZED  WITH  APOPLEXY  — HIS  CONDITION  AFTER  THIS  ATTACK — 
DEATH— FUNERAL. 

1843.     ^T.  48-49. 

In  the  latter  part  of  January,  1843,  soon  after  a  short 
visit  to  Boston,  he  addressed  the  following  letter  to  the 
writer  of  this  Memoir. 

"  Feamingha^i,  January  28,  1843. 

"  My  DEAR  JOHX, 

"  I  left  you  suddenly  and  partly  by  compulsion,  for  I  had 
determined  to  stay  another  day.  I  greatly  wished  more  eluci- 
dation and  direct  advice.  I  have  got  to  a  time  of  life  when 
this  persevering  ill-behavior  of  my  body  looks  to  me  as  an 
affair  of  growing  seriousness,  and  it  becomes  a  sober  man  to 
take  observation  of  his  whereabouts  and  his  progress.  I  see 
that  I  have  been  foolish  in  some  of  my  self-regulations,  and 
am  not  to  wonder  if  I  pay  the  penalty.  If  I  can  retrieve  what 
I  have  lost  in  any  good  degree,  I  ought  to  do  so,  and  I  wish 
to  know  how\  I  know  much  from  my  own  experience,  and 
shall  guide  myself  by  that;  but  I  must  have  some  light  from 
the  observation  and  wisdom  of  others.  And  as,  in  the  uncer- 
tainties of  life,  a  man  should  be  equally  readj^  for  all  things, 
and  have  the  equanimity  to  meet  every  change  cheerfully,  and 
as  this  cannot  be  done  unless  he  knows  when  severe  change  is 
approaching,  and  as  the  greatest  change  sometimes  comes 


232  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

insidiously  and  without  warning,  so  that  a  man  falls  over  the 
precipice  without  being  aware  of  his  nearness  to  it;  I  want  to 
ask  you  to  deal  very  honestly  with  me,  and,  as  soon  as  you 
are  sure, — whether  it  be  this  year  or  thirty  hence, — as  soon  as 
you  are  sure,  that,  by  slov/  degrees  or  rapid,  my  life  is  coming 
to  its  end,  you  will  tell  me  so.  I  covet  the  privilege  of  going 
home  with  my  eyes  open,  and  in  a  quiet  state  of  conscious 
preparation,  if  it  may  be.  I  do  not  want  to  live  weeks 
and  days  in  a  state  of  mere  suspense,  which  tortures  and 
afflicts  without  doing  any  good.  Let  me,  if  I  am  to  have 
the  languors  of  protracted  debility,  or  the  pains  of  acute 
disease,  let  me  have  with  them  the  knowledge  that  I  am 
approaching  my  end,  and  in  sight  of  a  world  where  I 
shall  have  no  pain  or  languor,  and  so  be  enabled  to  bear 
the  burden  by  the  power  of  those  elevating  thoughts.  I 
have  got  rid,  through  the  kindness  of  excellent  friends,  of  all 
distressful  anxiety  for  the  living  of  my  family ;  I  can  leave 
them  in  comparative  peace ;  in  that  sense,  my  house  is  set  in 
order.  I  want  now  to  be  secured  against  the  possibility  of  so 
great  a  misfortune  as  that  of  dying  without  the  chance  of  a 
tranquil  preparation  of  mind  and  feeling.  I  wish  to  be  assured 
of  early  plain  dealing,  and  I  beg  you  will  not  refuse  it  to  me. 
I  am  using  too  many  words  I  see.  It  seems  to  me  among  the 
probabilities  of  which  I  should  rationally  and  religiously  take 
cognizance,  that  my  system  may  run  down  without  another 
reaction;  it  has  been  so  with  others, — it  must  be  so  with  me 
sooner  or  later;  Avhy  not  now?  and  what  a  fool  should  I  be, 
not  to  acknowledge  it.  But  I  also  see,  that  there  are  many 
grounds  for  thinking,  that  it  may  revive,  and  that  it  may  run 
on  to  a  good  old  age.  I  want  to  do  my  duty,  and  be  equally 
ready  for  either  event.  If  you  can  aid  me,  do  ;  and  Mary  and 
I  will  do  our  part. 

"  I  still  suffer  oppression  from  all  I  eat,  and  a  considerable' 
sense  of  weakness.     My  nights  are  better;  my  days  languid; 
and  sometimes  I  fight  against  depression  in  vain.     I  shall  be 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  233 

down  again,  I  think,  in  a  few  days  ;  for  I  think  the  jaunt  was 
of  service  to  me ;  and  I  want  to  do  some  things,  which  I  had 
no  time  for.     Till  then,  good-bye.     Special  love  to  Helen." 

This  letter,  it  is  hoped,  was  answered  in  a  spirit  as 
sincere  as  that  in  which  it  was  written.  It  was  thought 
desirable  for  him  to  spend  some  time  in  the  beginning 
of  the  spring  in  Boston,  where  the  opportunities  of  out- 
door exercise  are  better  than  in  the  country;  and, 
accordingly,  after  some  delays,  he  came  to  my  house 
on  Thursday,  March  30th.  For  a  few  days  after  his 
arrival,  he  seemed  cheerful,  was  excited  by  new  objects, 
and  conversed  with  interest  and  animation.  He  went 
abroad  and  visited  a  number  of  his  friends,  and  wrote  a 
number  of  letters,  among  which  was  the  following, 
addressed  to  a  young  friend  abroad,  engaged  in  study 
for  the  ministry.  It  is  interesting,  as  exhibiting  almost 
the  last  workings  of  his  mind  on  the  great  themes,  that 
so  constantly  occupied  his  thoughts,  whilst  the  blow 
that  was  to  prostrate  him  was  even  then  ready  to  fall. 

"  Boston;  April  1,  1843. 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  a  chance  to  write  to  you  so  directly,  for 
there  seems  a  natural  propriety  in  our  having  some  intercourse 
with  each  other ;  and  it  is  strange,  that  you  should  have  left 
home  without  my  having  arranged  a  correspondence  with  you. 
But  in  truth  I  have  been  too  ill  to  be  anything  but  selfish ;  and. 
during  the  whole  season  I  have  had  the  miserable  necessity 
of  caring  so  much  for  myself,  as  to  have  little  disposition  to 
care  for  others.  I  am  living  very  retired  in  Framingham, 
able  to  do  and  enjoy  hardly  anything,  and  my  prospects  for 
the  future  are  very  uncertain.  A  hard  and  savage  winter  has 
confined  me ;  spring  does  not  yet  open ;  the  country  is  covered 
with  deep  snow  and  ice  ;  a  heavy  snow-storm  last  night.     I 

VOL.  II.  20=^ 


234 

am  in  Boston  for  a  few  days  to  consult  my  brother,  the  doctor; 
and,  wliile  so  near  the  steamer,  I  feel  near  to  you  ;  there- 
fore, I  fulfil  a  long  intention,  which  I  have  not  had  spunk  for 
a  few  weeks  past  to  execute,  of  sending  you  one  word  of  old 

good-will  and  friendship.     It  was  some  time  after had 

received  your  letter  of  I  forget  what  date,  before  I  saw  it;  and 
some  weeks  have  passed  since  I  saw  it,  and  should  have  fol- 
lowed my  impulse  to  write  at  the  moment.  I  hope  and  trust, 
that  in  the  mean  time  you  have  worked  yourself  into  clearer 
light  and  a  more  settled  feeling.  Only  time,  reflection,  self- 
study,  and  devotion  can  do  any  good  to  the  dissatisfaction  of 
heart  which  you  describe.  Counsel  from  a  friend  can  do  no 
good,  except  so  far  as  the  expression  of  sympathy  does  good, 
and  words  of  encouragement.  I  can  pretend  to  offer  you 
nothing  else. 

"  You  want  to  feel,  I  think,  that  such  experiences  are  not 
singular  or  very  unusual ;  that  men  of  thoughtful  minds  and 
sensitive  hearts  are  apt  to  pass  through  such  trials  in  the  great 
effort  to  form  their  characters  by  the  exalted  standard  which 
they  see  before  them.  A  tremendous  struggle  it  is,  between 
early  habits  of  thought  and  life  which  tend  to  keep  a  man 
down,  and  the  riper  aspirations  which  invite  a  man  up ;  how 
justly  described  in  Paul's  account  of  the  conflict  between  the 
flesh  and  the  spirit;  and  only  to  be  brought  to  a  successful 
issue  in  the  way  that  he  prescribes,  namely,  an  absolute  and 
total  surrender  to  the  law  of  Christ.  Nothing  else  can  deliver 
him  from  the  body  of  such  a  death.  I  suppose,  that,  in  your  case, 
the  difficulties  are  greatly  increased  by  the  nature  of  the  studies 
and  speculations  in  which  you  have  been  fond  of  indulging. 
You  have  been  hunting  after  wisdom  in  all  the  various  depart- 
ments of  human  philosophy,  and  the  guesses  of  men,  who  lean 
on  their  own  understanding,  and  think  themselves  competent 
to  understand  all  mysteries  and  all  knowledge.  You  have 
thus  been  led  away  from  the  infallible  guide,  from  the  true 
light;  and  now  find  yourself  in  uncertainty  and  discontent; 


LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  235 

with  an  enlightened  mind,  but  an  unsettled  heart ;  with- 
out assurance,  calmness,  and  peace ;  ever  learning,  but  not 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  truth.  You  have  gone  hither  and 
thither,  following  the  vagaries  of  human  wisdom ;  and  I  sup- 
pose you  can  find  no  rest  to  your  soul,  till  you  fling  yourself 
with  perfect  simplicity  and  confiding,  childlike,  docility  on  the 
word  of  divine  revelation.  *  Lord,  to  whom  shall  I  go  ?  Thou 
hast  the  words  of  eternal  life.'  I  feel  sure,  that,  if  you  would 
escape  out  of  the  gulf  in  which  you  describe  yourself  as  being, 
and  arrive  at  substantial  peace  and  self-satisfaction,  there  is  no 
way  but  this ;  '  the  peace  and  joy  of  believing.'  I  cannot  but 
hope  that  you  have  already  found  it  so.  Cut  yourself  ofT 
from  those  secondary  masters,  who  are  fumbling  about  in  the 
chaos  of  human  opinions  and  uncertain  conjectures,  and  take 
no  master  but  Christ;  you  will  find,  that,  weary  and  heavy 
laden  as  you  may  be,  he  will  give  rest  to  your  soul. 

*'  The  greatest  misfortune  of  this  time,  the  greatest  drawback 
to  individual  growth  and  social  spiritual  progress,  I  fear,  is  the 
substitution  of  Philosophy  for  Christianity,  of  Speculation  for 
Faith ;  and  I  really  have  no  wish  for  you,  as  a  man  and  a 
minister,  except  that  you  may  be  heartily  persuaded  of  this, 
and  do  accordingly.  If  yoa  will,  I  venture  to  promise  you  a 
perfect  deliverance  from  the  evils  you  deplore.  May  God 
guide  and  bless  you  in  the  great  work. 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  a  letter  from  you  ;  the  fuller 
the  better.  Let  me  know  all  about  you.  I  do  not  hope  to  aid 
you  essentially ;  but  I  should  like  to  do  anything  that  may 
have  any,  the  least  prospect  of  securing  to  you  a  true  peace, 
and  to  the  church  an  efficient  servant." 

On  Sunday,  he  visited  in  the  morning  his  old  place 
of  worship  in  Hanover  Street,  a  privilege  he  never  felt 
willing  to  deny  himself  except  when  absolutely  neces- 
sary ;  but,  in  the  afternoon,  not  being  able  to  walk  so 
far  a  second  time,  he  attended  service  at  the  church  in 


236  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

Bowdoin  Street.  He  appeared,  on  the  whole,  during 
the  first  days  of  his  visit,  better  than  had  been  antici- 
pated; yet  still  his  condition  was  most  unpromising. 
He  labored  constantly  under  a  sense  of  overpowering 
exhaustion.  His  weakness  was  such,  that  it  was  quite 
a  painful  effort  for  him  to  go  up  stairs  to  his  chamber ; 
his  appetite  was  poor,  and  he  was  oppressed  by  his  food. 
Some  changes  were  made  in  his  diet,  and  some  reme- 
dies were  administered ;  but  he  passed  the  week  very 
poorly,  and,  for  the  last  few  days,  did  not  come  down 
stairs,  and  sat  up  but  a  small  part  of  the  time. 

On  Monday,  April  1 0th,  he  Avas  Avell  enough  to  come 
down  to  breakfast,  but  was  soon  obliged  to  return  to  his 
chamber  from  increasing  indisposition.  Still,  so  far,  no 
symptoms  had  occurred  differing  from  those  to  wdiich 
he  was  accustomed.  In  the  afternoon,  appearing  some- 
what better,  he  was  left  for  a  short  time  with  one  of  his 
daughters  only  in  the  room.  He  soon  spoke  of  feeling 
more  unwell,  described  his  sensations  as  those  probably 
of  approaching  paralysis,  and,  anticipating  speedy  un- 
consciousness, desired  the  little  girl  to  repeat  carefully 
all  he  had  said  to  her  mother,  should  he  not  be  able  to 
do  so  upon  her  return.  He  did  not,  however,  lose  his 
consciousness,  but,  when  the  sensation  he  had  experi- 
enced,—a  numbness,— had  subsided,  went  quietly  to 
sleep.  Upon  awaking  he  remembered  all  that  had 
passed,  and  gave  a  distinct  account  of  it,  but  soon  man- 
ifested some  wandering  of  mind,  and  incoherency  of 
language.  Remedies  were  about  being  administered, 
when  he  was  seized  with  a  general  convulsion,  accom- 
panied by  entire  unconsciousness.  The  convulsion  sub- 
sided in  a  very  few  moments,  but  left  him  in  a  state  of 
complete  insensibility,  with  an  apoplectic  aspect  and  res- 


JR.  237 

piration.  Dr.  Jackson  saw  him  in  a  very  few  moments 
after  his  seizure ;  but  his  situation  was  apparently  one 
which  did  not  admit  of  any  remedy,  and  for  some  time 
it  appeared  probable,  that  the  attack  would  prove  speed- 
ily fatal.  ^ 

In  a  short  time,  however,  there  was  a  slight,  though 
very  imperfect,  return  of  consciousness  and  of  the  power 
of  speaking,  but  not  with  any  coherency :  there  was  no 
proper  restoration  of  mind.  He  slept  a  good  deal,  and, 
except  that  his  sleep  was  accompanied  by  frequent 
moaning,  the  latter  part  of  the  night  seemed  to  have 
been  passed  pretty  comfortably.  In  the  morning  he  was 
much  restored,  and  his  mind  gradually  cleared  up.  He 
was  exceedingly  prostrated  by  the  attack,  but  it  left 
behind  fewer  other  ill  consequences  than  were  to  have 
been  expected.  He  improved  very  slowly  in  appetite, 
power  of  digestion,  and  strength ;  still  he  did  improve, 
and,  after  a  few  weeks,  was  ^le  to  be  got  down  stairs, 
and  to  ride  abroad  in  a  carriage.  He  was  able  also  to 
see  some  company,  to  read  a  little,  and  to  hear  reading. 
On  the  6th  of  May,  he  was  seized,  in  a  manner  differing 
from  any  preceding  illness,  with  an  inflammatory  affec- 
tion within  the  abdomen,  accompanied  by  hemorrhage 
and  a  great  deal  of  pain,  and  followed  by  excessive 
prostration.  For  several  days  his  symptoms  were  very 
alarming,  and  his  disease  threatened  seriously  to  have 
an  unfavorable  termination.  Gradually,  however,  he 
again  rallied ;  his  case  seemed  much  more  favorable 
than  for  some  months  before ;  and,  although  the  loss  of 
strength  and  flesh  had  been  great,  yet  there  was  an 
improvement  in  his  aspect,  his  spirits,  and  his  hopes, 
and  an  appearance  of  elasticity  and  reaction  in  his  sys- 
tem, which  had  not  been  anticipated. 


238  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

He  was  confined  by  these  two  attacks  for  the  greater 
part  of  ten  weeks,  and  was  not  able  to  leave  Boston  till 
the  5th  of  June.  During  this  period,  his  son,  who  had 
completed  his  studies  the  preceding  summer,  and  had 
r^eived  an  invitation  to  settle  over  a  parish  at  Fall 
River,  was  ordained.  It  had  beerua  fond  anticipation, 
that  he  w^ould  gather  strength  enough  to  preach  on  this 
occasion ;  and,  when  satisfied  that  this  was  unlikely,  he 
trusted  he  might  find  himself  able  to  give  the  Charge ; 
and,  to  the  last,  he  clung  to  the  hope,  that  he  should  at 
least  recover  sufficiently  to  be  present.  But  one  by  one, 
very  reluctantly,  he  was  forced  to  relinquish  the  expec- 
tations he  had  cherished,  of  assisting  in  the  consecration 
of  his  son  to  a  work  for  which  he  had  labored  and  sac- 
rificed so  much  himself 

While  thus  confined  to  his  chamber,  he  manifested 
the  eagerness  for  occupation  always  characteristic  of 
him.  He  wrote  a  good  |;iany  letters,  to  some  of  which, 
addressed  to  correspondents  in  Europe,  he  received 
answers  before  leaving  his  room.  He  became  particu- 
larly interested  in  the  subject  of  music,  and  procured 
several  works  relating  to  it,  which  he  studied  with  much 
satisfaction.  His  attention  was  excited  also  by  all  the 
prominent  topics  of  the  day ;  and  especially  by  those 
which  were  discussed  at  the  various  meetings  of  the 
Anniversary  week  in  May,  many  of  the  debates  being 
of  a  very  animated  character,  especially  on  the  subject 
of  Slavery.  But  the  principal  subject  of  his  thoughts 
was  a  project,  which  he  had  entertained  for  some  time, 
of  becoming  the  Editor  of  "The  Christian  Examiner," 
and  devoting  himself  for  the  future  entirely  to  its  man- 
agement. This  plan  occupied  his  chief  attention  during 
the  remainder  of  his  life.     He  had  hoped,  from  time  to 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  239 

time,  that  he  should  be  sufficiently  restored  to  take 
charge  of  some  small  country  parish,  where  the  labor 
would  be  light,  and  the  demands  on  his  time  inconsid- 
erable. He  had  even  fixed  his  eye  upon  a  vacant  place, 
to  which  he  thought  he  might  be  competent.  But  the 
occupation  of  an  Editor  seemed,  upon  the  whole,  better 
suited  to  his  probable  condition,  and  was  quite  agree- 
able to  his  taste.  "  The  Christian  Examiner,"  as  has 
been  seen,  had  been  formerly  under  his  care,  under  the 
name  of  "The  Christian  Disciple,"  and  had  been  ever 
since  the  principal,  though  not  the  accredited,  organ  of 
Unitarianism  in  the  United  States.  For  the  few  pre- 
ceding years,  it  had  been  in  the  hands  of  his  brother 
William,  who  now  wished  to  relinquish  it.  In  January, 
he  had  written  to  him  thus : 

"  January  6,  1S43. 
"  I  am  more  and  more  inclined  to  take  the  work.  I  feel 
greater  uncertainty  about  my  ability  to  undertake  a  parish. 
My  liability  to  ill  turns  would  make  the  regular  preaching 
almost  impossible,  and  I  should  have  to  lie  abed  Sunday  and 
yet  be  out  Monday,  and  make  terrible  havoc,  &c.  So  I  think 
my  best  way  will  be  to  edit,  and  to  preach  occasionally.  I 
hope  not,  for  a  parish  is  my  heart's  desire.  But,  ivTiat  ive  can, 
not  ichat  ice  luould.  I  have  been  for  three  weeks  very  second- 
best  ; — as  near  good  for  nothing  as  walking  man  can  be. 
Somewhat  better  now.  One  reason  for  seeking  '  The  Exam- 
iner,' is,  that  I  liave  on  hand  a  great  quantity  of  material,  half- 
prepared,  which  1  could  work  out  to  great  advantage." 

As  it  became  desirable  now,  that  some  definite 
arrangement  should  be  made  concerning  the  work,  he 
entered  upon  the  matter  with  even  more  than  his  usual 
earnestness,  and  laid  out  quite  an  extensive  plan  of 


240  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

operations.  His  intention  was  to  devote  himself  exclu- 
sively to  this  object.  He  proposed  to  unite  in  support 
of  the  work  all  the  talent  of  the  denomination,  and  to 
use  vigorous  means  to  secure  it  a  very  extensive  circu- 
lation in  all  parts  of  the  country.  It  was  his  purpose  to 
give  to  it  a  high  practical  and  devotional  character,  as 
well  as  to  make  it  an  organ  for  the  defence  of  what  he 
believed  to  be  the  truth  concerning  the  doctrines  of 
Christianity.  It  was  his  hope,  also,  as  a  result  of  an 
extensive  circulation,  to  make  it  profitable  in  a  pecuni- 
ary way,  and  to  devote  the  whole  income,  beyond  his 
own  support,  to  the  various  important  objects  in  which 
he  was  interested.  In  speaking  of  his  intentions  and 
views  to  the  publishers  of  the  work,  he  expresses  him- 
self thus  at  diflerent  times. 

"  June  7. — I  wish  it  to  be  unclei*stood,  that  I  undertake 
'  The  Examiner'  for  the  sake  of  the  public  cause,  and  with  a 
view  to  do  the  utmost  possible  for  the  cause.  On  this  account 
I  shall  think  it  a  duty  to  make  the  best  possible  arrangement, 
so  that  the  profits  may  go  to  the  work  and  not  to  the  Agents. 
Therefore,  I  shall  feel  bound  to  take  up  with  the  most  advan- 
tageous offer  ;  and  I  cannot  in  any  degree  feel  myself  bound 
to  keep  the  work  in  your  hands,  if  I  can  do  more  profitably 
elsewhere." 

"  June  27.— I  explained  to  you  my  general  design,  and  you 
Know  it  to  be  my  purpose  to  make  the  work,  as  far  as  possible,  a 
great  public  instrument  of  spreading  truth;  and  you  are  aware, 
that,  in  order  to  accomplish  this  design,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
make  the  expenses  of  the  work  as  small  as  possible,  that  its 
receipts  may  be  as  large  as  possible." 

In  pursuance  of  this  design,  he  occupied  himself  a 
good  deal  of  the  time  in  various  preparations  for  the 


LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR.  241 

management  of  the  work.  He  laid  out  subjects  which 
he  wished  to  have  treated ;  looked  around  "for  persons 
to  be  engaged  as  contributors,  planned  various  modes 
of  operation,  and  devised  means  for  raising  its  charac- 
ter and  extending  its  influence.  Being  in  the  city,  and 
in  an  apparently  prosperous  state  of  convalescence 
during  the  week  of  the  Anniversaries,  he  was  in  a  very 
animated  and  excited  state  of  mind  on  this  subject,  and 
conversed  with  several  of  his  brethren  concerning  it. 
He  also  communicated  his  intentions  and  plans  to  the 
Berry  Street  Conference  of  Unitarian  Ministers,  who 
were  holding  their  annual  session,  and  by  them  they 
were  favorably  received.  *  He  met  with  encouragement 
in  all  quarters,  and  he  was  filled  with  hope,  and  in- 
dulged in  ardent  anticipations  of  still  continued  useful- 
ness in  this  field. 

There  was  unquestionably  at  this  time  something 
morbid  in  the  state  of  his  mind.  He  exhibited  an 
almost  delirious  restlessness  and  eagerness  of  purpose, 
an  over-sanguine  estimate  of  his  means  and  prospects. 
Still,  his  faculties  were  rather  unbalanced,  than  over- 
thrown. His  mind  seemed  generally  to  act  with  its 
usual  correctness,  and,  in  ordinary  conversation  on 
common  topics,  little  would  have  been  noticed  different 
from  his  usual  manner.  Even  on  this  subject,  with 
regard  to  which  he  was  so  much  excited,  his  views 
were  in  the  main  sound  and  judicious,  though  on  some 
points,  and  at  some  times,  extravagant  and  wanting  in 
that  calm  and  subdued  judgment,  which  usually  dis- 
tinguished him.  But,  if  he  indulged  in  some  delusion, 
it  was  happy  for  him  that  he  did.  It  prevented  hira 
from  feeling,  that  he  was  condemned  to  spend  the 
remainder  of  his  days  in  inaction,  a  useless  member  of 

VOL.  IL  2] 


242  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

society.  He  continued  to  dwell  upon  this  object  and 
even  to  labor  for  it,  as  long  as  he  lived ;  and  the  con- 
templation of  it  contributed  not  a  little  to  vary  with 
pleasant  and  hopeful  thoughts  the  heavy  and  weari- 
soiiie  hours,  through  which  he  was  still  to  pass  before 
he  arrived  at  his  journey's  end. 

It  is  a  painful  characteristic  of  the  disease,  Avhich  was 
slowly  invading  his  life,  that  it  not  only  may  lay  in 
ruins  the  intellect  of  the  unhappy  subject  of  it,  but 
often  prostrates  also  the  power  of  moral  control.  There 
is  hardly  a  more  trying  and  humiliating  spectacle,  than 
that  of  an  individual  whom  we  have  been  accustomed 
to  revere  for  high  qualities  and  capacities,  reduced  to 
a  condition  of  imbecility  of  mind ;  Avayward,  irritable, 
perverse,  or  even  idiotic: — to  see  the  gentle  become 
violent;  the  forbearing  and  considerate,  unreasonable 
and  capricious ;  and  the  calm  and  mild  indulge  in  the 
most  violent  passions.  Happily  his  friends  were  spared 
the  worst  part  of  such  a  trial.  The  effects  of  his  mal- 
ady were  sometimes  apparent  in  the  operations  of  his 
mind :  and  for  many  months  it  rendered  necessary  a 
hard  and  sometimes  an  unsuccessful  struggle  to  pre- 
serve that  kindness  and  gentleness  of  feeling,  and  that 
placid,  forbearing  manner,  which  were  so  eminently  his. 
But  he  never  fell  into  that  wretched  condition,  in  which 
there  is  no  struggle  to  maintain  moral  control,  because 
the  perception  of  moral  relations  is  lost.  Disease  with 
him  never  even  approached  this  dreadful  extremity. 
To  use  the  beautiful  and  expressive  words  of  one 
whom  I  have  already  quoted:  '-It  touched,  but  with- 
out rudeness,  the  springs  of  his  intellectual  life.  It  dis- 
turbed, but  without  violence,  the  fountain  of  his  affec- 
tions,  the  Siloam  which  had  healed  and  blessed  so 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  243 

many.  But,  disturbed  as  it  was,  the  fountain  flowed 
and  sparkled  still,  for  those  who  waited  at  its  brink."  '^ 

The  improvement,  which,  as  has  been  said,  took 
place  after  his  last  attack,  went  only  to  a  certain  point : 
his  condition  soon  became  at  best  stationary;  and,  in 
the  beginning  of  June,  weak  and  emaciated,  impatient 
of  a  longer  absence  from  home,  and  with  the  restless- 
ness of  body  and  mind  belonging  to  his  state,  he  left 
Boston  on  his  way  to  Framingham.  On  Monday,  June 
5th,  he  went  to  Cambridge,  and  passed  there  some 
days.  His  father  was  at  this  time  beginning  to  exhibit, 
as  it  has  since  proved,  the  early  symptoms  of  the  same 
disease  which  was  bringing  to  its  close  the  life  of  the 
son.  Still,  notwithstanding  the  infirmities  of  mind  and 
body  imder  which  they  both  labored,  they  enjoyed 
some  periods  of  most  satisfactory  and  comforting  inter- 
course. On  Thursday  afternoon,  June  8th,  he  went  as 
far  as  the  house  of  his  sister,  Mrs.  Edward  Warren, 
in  Newton,  where  he  spent  the  night,  and  reached 
Framingham  the  next  afternoon.  In  recording  in  his 
journal,  which  now  contained  little  more  than  dates, 
his  arrival  home,  he  adds,  as  indicative  of  his  heartfelt 
satisfaction  at  the  event,  his  usual  exclamation,  "  Laus 
Deo  !  "  and  this,  except  one  or  two  unimportant  remarks 
concerning  the  weather,  was  the  last  entry  he  ever  made. 

But  the  same  uneasiness  of  body  and  restlessness  of 
mind,  that  rendered  him  impatient  of  absence  while 
abroad,  rendered  him  equally  impatient  for  some  farther 
change  when  he  was  at  home.  His  system  was  in  that 
peculiar  state  of  constant  irritation  from  the  malady 
within,  which  deludes  its  victim  into  the  hope  that  his 
sufferings   are   owing   to   circumstances   without,   and 

*  Sermon  of  the  Rev.  Chandler  Robbins. 


244  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

leads  him  to  expect  in  constant  change,  the  relief 
which  still  flies  from  him  as  he  seems  to  approach  it. 
While  in  Boston,  he  had  projected,  when  his  strength 
should  he  sufficiently  restored,  a  journey  to  Fall  River 
on  a  visit  to  his  son ;  and,  though  really  incompetent 
to  such  an  undertaking,  he  was  not  willing  to  defer  it. 
Accordingly  on  the  next  Thursday  after  his  return, 
June  15th,  he  set  out  in  his  carryall,  accompanied  by 
his  wife,  on  this  expedition.  Journeying  by  short 
stages,  he  reached  Plymouth  on  Saturday  night.  Here 
he  was  very  unwell,  and  remained  till  the  next  Thurs- 
day, at  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Edes,  whose  wife, 
for  whom  he  had  a  great  regard,  had  been  one  of  the 
young  Avomen  of  his  parish  in  Boston.  On  Friday  he 
renewed  the  attempt  to  proceed,  and  went  as  far  as 
Middleborough.  While  at  this  place,  on  endeavoring 
to  step  into  a  door  a  little  more  elevated  than  common, 
he  failed  from  great  weakness,  fell  helplessly  backward, 
and  struck  the  lower  part  of  the  spine  with  much  vio- 
lence against  the  ground.  The  blow  was  a  severe  one, 
and  not  only  jarred  his  Avhole  frame  a  good  deal  at  the 
time,  but  left  effects  from  which  he 'suffered  consider- 
ably afterward.  He  was,  however,  well  enough  the 
next  day  to  resume  his  journey,  and  reached  Fall  River 
on  Saturday  night.  He  remained  here  till  the  Monday 
following,  when,  accompanied  by  his  son,  who  was 
himself  somewhat  out  of  health,  he  went  as  far  as 
Providence,  to  the  house  of  his  brother-in-law,  the  Rev. 
Edward  B.  Hall.  Here  his  son  became  so  nuich  more 
unwell,  that  it  was  necessary  they  should  hasten  home ; 
and,  giving  up  their  own  conversance,  they  took  the 
railroad,  and  arrived  at  Framingham  on  Friday  after- 
noon, the  23d  of  June. 


JR.  245 

He  was  not  in  a  condition  of  body,  during  this  excur- 
sion, to  endure  any  tiling  with  tranquiUity,  nor  in  a 
frame  of  mind  to  derive  enjoyment  from  those  sources, 
which  Iiad  always  before  served  to  render  traveUing 
very  dehghtful.  It  was  therefore  neither  a  pleasure  nor 
a  benefit  to  him,  whilst  it  was  painful  to  the  friends 
who  accompanied  him  and  those  whom  he  visited. 
The  same  state  of  things  remained  for  a  while  after  his 
return ;  and  he  continued  to  experience  some  pain  and 
difficulty  of  motion  from  his  fall,  but  nothing  worse. 
In  no  very  long  time,  however,  a  very  marked  improve- 
ment took  place  in  several  respects,  especially  in  the 
state  of  his  mind ;  an  improvement,  of  which  he  was 
himself  sensible,  as  he  had  been  keenly  so  of  his  pre- 
ceding condition;  and  he  spoke  of  it  with  heartfelt 
gratitude.  It  was  in  this  state  of  comparative  improve- 
ment, that  I  passed  part  of  a  day  and  night  at  his  house 
in  the  beginning  of  August.  The  change  that  had 
taken  place  surprised  and  delighted  me.  He  was  tran- 
quil and  cheerful,  entered  with  his  usual  animation  into 
the  common  subjects  of  conversation,  spoke  of  his  plans 
for  future  occupation  and  usefulness,  of  the  progress 
made  in  the  arrangements  for  his  taking  charge  of  '•  The 
Examiner,"  and  talked,  with  a  good  deal  of  interest,  of  a 
journey  I  was  about  to  make  through  the  interior  of  the 
State  of  New  York,  which  he  had  several  times  visited, 
and  under  circumstances  that  had  left  a  strong  impres- 
sion upon  him.  He  spoke  also,  with  much  feeling,  of 
the  change  in  his  condition,  and  of  the  great  satisfaction 
it  gave  him.  In  the  afternoon  we  drove  for  some  miles 
around  the  neighborhood  of  his  residence.  He  seemed 
to  enjoy  it  much,  and  to  be  as  much  alive  as  ever  to  the 
beauties  of  the  season  and  the  scene.     So  striking  was 

VOL.   II.  21* 


246  LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

all  this,  that,  notwithstanding  his  almost  shadowy  form, 
his  thin  and  pale  countenance,  and  tottering  steps,  it 
was  hardly  possible  not  to  hope  against  experience,  and 
anticipate  greater  changes,  of  which  these  were  but  the 
forerunners.  Though  such  hopes  were  vain,  there  was 
yet  to  his  friend.s  much  consolation  in  this  short  respite. 
It  almost  seems,  on  looking  back,  as  if  a  veil,  which 
disease  had  hung  over  his  spirit,  had  been  lifted  up  for 
a  short  period  before  the  shadow  of  death  settled  upon 
it,  that  our  last  recollections  might  present  him  to  us 
with  all  the  endearing  associations  of  his  better  days. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  this  interval  of  relief.  His 
state  afterward  was  one  of  great  prostration ;  but  there 
was  no  depression  of  spirits,  and  no  return  of  that  ner- 
vous irritability  from  which  he  had  suffered  so  much. 
On  Thursday,  August  10th.  though  very  languid,  and 
doubtful  of  his  ability  to  go  so  far,  he  went  to  North- 
borough,  about  ten  miles  distant,  accompanied  by  his 
eldest  daughter,  driving  himself  in  a  carryall.  He  was 
refreshed  by  his  ride,  "  feeling  better  every  mile,"  as  he 
said ;  and  spent  the  day  there,  returning  at  night.  As 
he  was  coming  home,  it  rained  heavily ;  he  was  obliged 
to  get  out  on  the  way  to  adjust  his  harness,  and  thus 
became  somewhat  wet,  but  suffered  no  immediate  incon- 
venience from  it.  The  next  day  he  was  weary,  felt 
very  ill,  and  passed  most  of  the  time  upon  his  bed. 
On  the  12th,  he  revived  a  little,  walked  and  rode,  but 
was  not  able  on  the  13th,  it  being  Sunday,  to  attend 
public  worship  as  he  had  wished.  On  Monday,  the 
14th,  he  felt  more  bright,  and  passed  a  pleasant  hour 
with  his  friend,  the  Rev.  S.  K.  Lothrop,  who  paid  him 
a  visit.  About  one  in  the  afternoon,  while  the  family 
were  at  dinner,  he  lay  on  the  sofa  in  an  adjoining  room, 


247 

having  just  taken  a  little  food  himself.  He  called  his 
wife  to  him  from  the  table,  and  said  that  he  felt  very 
strangely,— that  he  believed  he  was  going;  but  imme- 
diately added,  as  if  to  prevent  unnecessary  alarm,  "not 
going  to  die,  but  to  faint,  I  believe."  He  had  at  the 
same  time  a  flush  upon  his  countenance,  and  something 
like  a  convulsion ;  but  this  was  only  momentary,  and 
he  did  not  lose  his  consciousness.  He  closed  his  eyes, 
and  never  again  opened  them  voluntarily. 

So  utter  a  prostration  followed  immediately  on  this 
attack,  that  he  was  not  removed  from  the  room  in  which 
he  was  seized.  A  bed  was  brought  down  into  it,  and 
from  this  he  never  rose  again.  He  was  faithfully  and 
kindly  attended,  during  his  illness,  by  Dr.  Whitney  of 
Pramingham;  but  his  condition  was  now  evidently 
such,  that  there  was  no  longer  the  hope  of  even  post- 
poning the  fatal  event.  For  some  days  after  the  attack, 
he  was  extremely  restless  and  apparently  uneasy,  roll- 
ing constantly  from  side  to  side,  and  frequently  moan- 
ing aloud ;  yet,  when  asked  of  his  sensations,  he  com- 
plained of  little  else  than  a  feeling  of  excessive  weari- 
ness. After  the  subsidence  of  this  symptom,  he  lay  for 
the  most  part  in  a  state,  apparently,  of  imperfect  sleep. 
But  from  this  he  was  easily  roused,  and  was  capable  of 
attending  to,  and  of  understanding,  what  was  going  on 
around  him.  He  knew  perfectly  well  those  who  visited 
him,  spoke  to  them,  listened  attentively  to  what  was 
said,  and  often  signified  his  attention  or  his  assent, 
when  incapable  of  the  exertion  of  answering.  He  was. 
from  the  first,  perfectly  aware  of  his  situation,  as  one 
that  precluded  all  hope;  he  resigned  himself  to  it  at 
once,  — not,  obviously,  from  that  feeling  of  indifference 
to  the  event,  which  is  the  result  of  long  suffering,  and 


248 

of  an  insensibility  growing  out  of  an  oppressed  condition 
of  the  physical  frame,  but  from  that  profound  sense  of 
the  duty  of  entire  submission  to  the  will  of  God,  which 
he  had  always  cultivated,  and  always  endeavored  to 
exhibit,  in  circumstances  of  trial,  danger,  and  sorrow. 
When  once  convinced  that  the  time  of  his  departure 
was  at  hand,  he  gave  himself  up  entirely.  There  was 
no  misgiving,  no  looking  back  to  the  world,  as  if  he 
desired  still  to  linger  there.  He,  as  it  were,  pressed 
earnestly  forward,— not,  as  in  times  past,  regretting  the 
fields  of  labor  he  had  left,  and  longing  to  be  again 
engaged  in  his  work;  but,  contented  with  his  condi- 
tion, his  mind  dwelt  now  almost  exclusively  on  the 
vv^orld  to  which  he  was  hastening. 

As  he  lay  on  his  bed,  with  his  eyes  closed,  and  with 
no  manifestation  of  sensibility  except  an  occasional 
tossing  of  the  limbs,  or  change  of  posture,  or  audible 
moaning,  he  would  have  seemed  asleep,  or  in  a  state 
too  nearly  approaching  it  to  be  conscious  of  trains  of 
thought.  But  it  was  found,  that  at  these  times  he  was 
often  occupied  in  active  contemplations.  '•  My  mind," 
he  would  say,  ''is  crowded  with  thoughts,  precious 
thoughts  of  death  and  immortality."  His  mind  occa- 
sionally wandered,  and  yet  he  could  at  no  time  be 
regarded  as  properly  delirious.  He  sometimes  fan- 
cied himself  in  another  place,  and  could  not  reconcile 
together  all  the  circumstances  of  time,  place,  and  per- 
sons, of  which  his  senses  informed  liim.  But  there  was 
no  considerable  or  permanent  aberration  on  any  impor- 
tant particular. 

He  had  interviews  with  many  of  his  friends  and 
relatives  during  the  weeks  whicli  intervened  before  his 
decease,  and  with  some  of  them  he  was  able  to  -con- 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  249 

verse  with  freedom  and  clearness.  To  his  brother 
Allen,  a  few  days  before  his  death,  he  said :  "  My  life 
has  been  singularly  blessed.  My  success  has  been 
beyond  my  brightest  hopes.  But  my  work  is  done.  I 
am  going.  It  is  all  right.  All  is  well."  His  friend 
Mr.  Gannett,  who  also  visited  him,  has  given  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  his  interview.  "Not  a  great  while 
before  brother  Ware  was  taken  away,  I  visited  him  in 
his  sick  chamber,  not  expecting  that  he  would  know 
me,  but  to  my  great  surprise  and  delight,  he  raised  his 
hand  to  take  mine,  with  his  eyes  open,  and  said,  in  a 
distinct  voice, — '  I  am  glad  to  see  your  face  in  the  flesh 
once  more.'  He  spoke  of  the  goodness  of  God,  and  the 
many  mercies  which  he  had  enjoyed;  alluded  to  his 
departure,  but  said  he  should  be  still  with  us;  he 
'could  not  believe  that  the  church  above  and  the 
church  below  were  separated.'  He  spoke  of  his  weari- 
ness, but  said  it  was  only  weariness  of  the  body.  He 
spoke  again  of  his  connexion  hereafter  with  us  and  our 
interests, — and,  lifting  up  his  hand  and  arm,  said,  'It 
is  only  these  inferior  instruments  that  the  separation 
affects.'  I  finally  took  leave  of  him;  but  when  I 
reached  the  door,  he  called  me  back  and  said  with  inex- 
pressible interest;  —  'Farewell.  Peace  and  love  to  the 
brethren.'  " 

But  generally,  on  occasion  of  these  visits,  he  took  no 
special  notice,  unless  he  was  roused  and  his  attention 
was  directly  called  for.  He  then  welcomed  his  friends, 
and  seemed  obviously  to  have  been  aware  of,  and 
pleased  v/ith,  their  presence,  but  too  much  overwhelmed 
by  a  sense  of  exhaustion  to  make  the  exertion  to  speak. 
Commonly  he  spoke  as  if  it  were  a  very  great  effort ; 
but,  when  the  effort  had  been  once  made,  he  would 


250  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

sometimes  continue  to  talk  on  with  considerable  ease. 
To  one  of  his  family,  who  asked  him  how  he  felt,  he 
answered,  "Q,uiet,  contented,  and  happy.'^  At  another 
time,  when  he  seemed  as  tranquil  and  easy  as  a  sleep- 
ing child,  he  replied,  "Very well,  only  so  tired!"  every 
word  and  motion  indicating  this  feeling  to  be  predomi- 
nant.>  He  inquired  after  his  father,  who  had  been  seri- 
ously ill;  it  was  announced  that  he  was  better.  "He 
will  follow  on  very  soon,"  said  he,  and  then  expressed 
surprise  that  it  had  not  been  all  over  with  himself 
before  now.  At  another  time,  a  fortnight  before  his 
death,  during  a  visit  from  the  same  relative,  he  talked 
freely,  spontaneously,  and  with  less  effort  than  ever 
before.  Now  and  then  he  lost  a  word  or  a  thought, 
but,  on  the  whole,  was  bright  and  intelligent.  His 
mind  ran  back  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  their  long 
and  intimate  connexion  through  life.  He  expressed  a 
strong  wish,  that  he  could  bring  all  these  circumstances 
together  into  a  small  compass,  so  that  he  might  view 
them  at  once.  Alluding  to  his  own  approaching  death, 
which  he  often  spoke  of,  and  always  as  of  an  event 
which  was  certain  to  take  place  in  a  very  short  time, 
he  said,  that  "  this  was  a  period  when  there  were  many 
reasons  why  one  would  not  wish  to  leave  the  world, 
because  there  were  so  many  things  in  progress,  in  which 
he  was  interested,  and  could  desire  to  see  the  result  of" 
It  was  said  in  repl}^,  that  at  no  time  probably  would 
this  be  otherwise,  since  there  would  be  always  new 
projects  in  existence  for  the  improvement  and  happiness 
of  mankind.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "I  suppose  that  it  is 
so;"  and  tlien  fell  away  without  further  remark. 

But,  even  when  his  mind  seemed  to  be  most  dis- 
tinctly vergmg  on  delirium,  the  predominant  character 


LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR.  251 

and  tendency  of  his  thoughts  were  for  the  most  part  the 
same.  They  dwelt  upon  his  condition,  his  approaching 
change,  his  faith,  his  Saviom\  On  one  occasion,  he 
seemed  to  fancy  himself  to  he  about  to  administer  the 
Communion.  He  called  all  his  family  about  him,  and 
spoke  to  them  in  words  like  those  with  which  he  was 
accustomed  to  address  his  own  flock  on  such  an  occa- 
sion ;  and  to  those  around  he  seemed  as  earnest,  as  col- 
lected, as  devout,  as  when  in  the  days  of  health  he  had 
actually  stood  at  the  altar  of  his  church.  "  Warm  and 
elevated  expressions  of  gratitude  to  the  Saviour,  inter- 
mingled with  aflfectionate  addresses  and  counsels  to  his 
family,  fell  from  his  lips.  His  thoughts  turned  to  the 
closing  hours  and  acts  of  the  Master  whom  he  loved ; 
and,  speaking  of  the  design  of  Jesus  in  instituting  the 
Last  Supper,  as  if  inspired  by  the  very  spirit  of  his  own 
boundless  benevolence,  he  stretched  out  his  feeble  arms, 
saying,  '  He  intended  it  for  all ;  he  would  gather  all  to 
his  embrace.' "  ^^ 

But  his  state,  during  the  weeks  of  this  confinement, 
was  far  from  uniform.  He  seemed  to  have,  in  the 
course  of  them,  two  or  three  separate  attacks  of  the 
same  nature  as  the  first,  but  less  severe.  These  were 
severally  followed  by  an  aggravation  of  his  symptoms, 
and,  at  some  times,  he  exhibited  signs  of  a  paralysis  of 
the  left  side  of  tlie  body;  but  this  was  not  complete  or 
continued.  In  the  intervals  of  these  attacks  he  rallied, 
and  took  more  notice,  and  exertion  was  less  burden- 
some; he  was  able  to  take  more  food,  and  that  even 
with  some  relish. 

In  the  afternoon  of  Thursday,  September  21st,  he  had 
in  this  way  revived  somewhat,  and  had  taken  consid- 

*  Sermon  by  the  Rev.  Chandler  Robbins. 


252  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

erable  notice  of  what  was  passing.  He  asked  his  wife 
to  read  to  him.  His  children  had  been  on  a  visit  to 
Cambridge,  and  had  just  returned.  He  spoke  to  them 
all,  and  asked  how  they  had  enjoyed  themselves.  He 
seemed  pleased  with  their  being  in  the  room,  and  par- 
ticularly noticed  the  buoyant  spirits  and  happy  playful- 
ness of  the  youngest,  a  little  boy  about  three  years  old. 
A  few  moments  afterward  his  wife  began  to  feed  him 
with  a  peach.  She  had  but  just  given  him  a  piece  of 
it,  when  she  observed  that  he  suddenly  thrust  the  thumb 
of  his  right  hand  into  his  mouth  in  a  very  peculiar  man- 
ner. She,  supposing  that  there  was  something  there 
which  gave  him  inconvenience,  took  hold  of  his  hand, 
asking  him  if  it  was  so.  He  did  not  answer  her  inquiry, 
but  said  distinctly,  though  in  a  low  tone,  "I  am  losing 
all  control  of  myself"  There  was  a  spasmodic  move- 
ment of  the  hand,  a  slight  convulsion  of  his  whole  body, 
and  he  was  instantly  insensible.  His  eyes  closed,  a 
profuse  perspiration  covered  him,  and  he  lost  immedi- 
ately the  power  of  swallowing.  For  a  few  hours  his 
breathing  was  as  gentle  as  an  infant's;  in  the  course  of 
the  night  it  became  somewhat  laborious :  but,  at  last, 
tranquilly  and  quietly  as  he  had  lived,  without  further 
convulsion  or  struggle,  at  half  past  six  in  the  morning 
he  '-passed  on."  * 

Late  on  Sunday  evening,  his  body  arrived  at  the 
house  of  his  father  in  Cambridge,  being  conveyed  from 
Framingham  in  his  own  carryall  by  his  wife  and  son. 

*It  was  said  in  one  of  the  numerous  notices  of  this  event  from  the  pulpits 
of  his  brethren  in  the  ministry :—"  It  is  the  language  of  a  gifted  lady,  who 
has  just  written  to  us,  '/  see,  Henry  Ware  has  passed  on.'  Passed  on! 
Beautiful  thought.  He  has  not  stopped,  he  has  not  ceased  to  be,  he  has 
passed  on,  in  faith,  and  duty,  and  love,  to  higher  labors  and  undefiled 
reward."— ^1/5*.  of  the  Rev.  E.  B.  Hall, 


LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  253 

The  funeral  took  place  on  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day, 
September  25th,  from  the  College  Chapel.  It  was 
attended  by  the  government  and  members  of  the  Uni- 
versity, and  by  many  of  his  friends  and  former  parish- 
ioners from  Boston.  The  services  were  performed  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Parkman,  his  tried  friend  and  former  asso- 
ciate in  the  ministry,  and  by  the  Rev.  Drs.  Francis,  his 
successor,  and  Noyes,  his  colleague,  in  the  Theological 
School.  The  choir  of  the  Chapel  chanted  the  twenty- 
third  Psalm,  which  he  had  asked  to  have  read  to  him  a 
few  days  before  his  death,  and  which  was  the  last  pas- 
sage of  Scripture  to  which  he  listened. 

His  remains  were  followed  to  Mount  Auburn,  and 
deposited  in  a. sepulchre  which  had  been  presented  to 
him  by  his  friend,  Professor  Farrar,  of  which  he 
was  the  first  tenant.  Here,  just  at  the  edge  of  evening, 
in  the  midst  of  a  gentle  shower,  whilst  the  falling  of  a 
few  of  the  leaves  of  early  autumn  was  in  solemn  keep- 
ing with  the  melancholy  ceremony,  was  left  his  weary 
and  wasted  form.  He  had  grown  old  and  died  before 
his  prime,  worn  down  by  those  exertions,  both  of  body 
and  mind,  which  had  been  directed  for  thirty  years  to  a 
single  great  object,  an  object  to  which  he  had  devoted 
his  whole  spirit,  with  a  constancy  which  knew  no 
repose,  till  he  was  laid,  like  his  Master,  in  this  new 
tomb  "wherein  never  man  before  was  laid."  But  of 
the  grief,  the  sense  of  loss,  which  must  always  attend 
such  a  separation,  there  could  in  no  case  be  more  satis- 
factory consolations.  His  life  had  been  a  pure,  an 
active,  a  useful,  and  a  happy  one.  There  was  as  little 
in  it  for  his  friends  to  look  back  upon  with  regret,  as  is 
compatible  with  the  necessary  imperfections  of  the 
human  character    and    condition;    whilst    there  was 

VOL.  II.  22 


254  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

much,  very  much,  that  could  be  contemplated  only 
with,  we  will  not  say  pride,  but  a  sentiment  of  a  higher 
and  nobler  sort.  All  the  success  which  he  wished,  or 
was  capable  of  enjoying,  he  had  attained.  He  had 
striven  unceasingly,  and  not  in  vain,  in  the  only  paths 
in  which  he  desired  to  walk.  He  had  enjoyed  and  he 
had  suffered  much.  He  had  received  multiplied  favors 
from  his  fellow-men,  and  choicest  blessings  from 
Heaven.  Gratitude  to  God  and  men  was  among  the 
most  cherished  of  his  feelings.  He  had  been  tried  by 
repeated  afflictions,  and  by  wasting,  protracted,  and 
painful  disease.  But  he  had  submitted  with  patience 
and  without  repining.  They  had  not  dimmed  the 
brightness  of  his  hope,  nor  ever  made  him  waver  m  his 
faith.  He  had  always  lived  in  the  near  expectation  of 
death,  and,  when  at  last  it  came,  he  met  it  with  unfal- 
tering trust. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

NOTICES    OF    HIS  "character. 

I  DO  not  know  that  it  is  necessary  to  add  anything  to 
the  foregoing  pages,  by  way  of  further  ilkistration  of 
the  Hfe  and  character  of  the  subject  of  this  narrative.  I 
have  endeavored,  as  far  as  possible,  to  convey  his  his- 
tory in  his  own  words,  and  to  display  the  qualities  of 
his  mind  and  heart  by  the  unstudied  expression  of  them 
which  is  contained  in  his  own  writings.  Still  there  are 
some  things,  which,  I  feel,  may  be  interesting  to  those 
who  knew  him  ;  partly  the  result  of  my  own  recollec- 
tions and  impressions,  and  partly  the  expression  of  the 
recollections  and  impressions  of  others. 

Those  who  were  familiar  with  him,  will  need  noth- 
ing to  revive  in  them  a  remembrance  of  his  personal 
appearance.  Of  the  portraits  accompanying  this  Me- 
moir, the  first,  taken  early  in  life,  is  a  just  representa- 
tion of  him  as  he  appeared  in  his  best  days  and  under 
the  most  favorable  circumstances;  the  second,  taken 
after  severe  illness  had  broken  his  constitution,  and  left 
its  traces  even  on  the  lineaments  of  his  face,  though  in 
form  and  feature  a  tolerably  exact  likeness,  still  does  not 
give  a  fair  impression  of  his  usual  aspect,  even  under 
these  circumstances.  His  countenance  was  always 
pale,  and  conveyed  the  idea  of  feeble  health ;  but  it  did 
not,  till  late  in  life,  bear  a  positively  morbid  appear- 


256  LIFE    OF   HENRY    WARE,    JR. 

ance.  Its  expression  was  usually  mild,  thoughtful,  and 
serious ;  rarely,  if  ever,  gloomy ;  and  very  frequently, 
especially  in  society,  cheerful.  He  was  somewhat 
beloAV  the  ordinary  stature,  and,  in  his  latter  years,  he 
stooped,  so  as  to  take  something  from  his  actual  height. 
In  youth  and  in  the  beginning  of  manhood,  he  was  full 
in  his  person ;  but,  by  the  time  of  his  ordination,  he 
had  begun  to  lose  this  .plumpness,  and  became  grad- 
ally  thinner  as  he  grew  older.  In  early  life  he  looked 
much  younger  than  his  years ;  towards  its  conclusion, 
much  older.  This  was  owing  as  much,  however,  to 
his  bent  form  and  feeble  gait,  as  to  change  of  counte- 
nance ;  whilst  an  entire  inattention  to  dress,  and  to  per- 
sonal appearance  in  general,  contributed  to  produce  the 
same  result. 

His  whole  appearance  and  address,  though  far  from 
imposing  or  dignified,  usually  made  a  favorable  impres- 
sion, excited  attention,  and  inspired  coniidence.  His 
former  pupil,  the  Rev.  John  H.  Morison,  of  New  Bed- 
ford, writes  to  me  thus  of  the  impression  he  received  on 
seeing  him  for  the  first  time. 

"  On  a  drizzly  October  day,  I  think  in  1826  or  1827,  I,  then 
a  school-boy  at  Exeter  Academy,  had  ridden  to  Greenland ; 
and  while  I  was  there,  at  a  comfortless  hotel,  the  stage-coach 
drove  up,  and  half  a  dozen  passengers,  or  more,  came  in  to 
warm  themselves.  As  they  were  standing  by  the  fire,  one 
man,  dressed  in  a  dark  camlet  cloak,  by  his  look  of  gentle- 
ness, purity,  and  heavenly-mindedness,  so  engaged  my  atten- 
tion, though  not  a  word  was  spoken,  that,  on  my  return  to 
Exeter,  I  spoke  to  several  persons  of  the  stage  passenger, 
whose  countenance  had  made  such  an  impression  upon  me. 
After  a  day  or  two,  I  learned  that  it  was  Henry  Ware.  I  did 
not  see  him  again  until  after  his  return  from  Europe,  in  the 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  257 

spring  or  summer  of  1S31 ;  but  his  look  went  with  me  as  dis- 
tinctly as  if  he  had  been  my  father." 

He  always  looked  his  profession ;  not  because  he 
assumed  its  air,  or  aimed  to  put  on  its  external  aspect ; 
but  probably  because  his  thoughts  and  purposes  were 
always  in  it  and  of  it,  and  of  scarcely  anything  else. 
This  was  especially  the  case  in  the  pulpit,  a  place 
which  he  seemed  never  to  enter  without  a  profound 
appreciation  of  its  solemn  character  and  duties.  An 
aged  friend,  who  was  only  occasionally  a  listener  to  his 
preaching,  said  to  me  since  his  death,  that  "she  always 
loved  to  hear  him  preach.  She  did  not  know  what  it 
was.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  his  appear- 
ance or  looks.  He  was  no  great  of  an  orator,  yet 
everybody  was  glad  to  see  him  come  into  the  pulpit. 
There  seemed  to  be  something  in  him  different  from 
other  men." 

His  manners  were  seldom  very  courteous,  or,  prop- 
erly, cordial;  sometimes  the  opposite,  even  at  first 
repulsive.  Still  they  were  not  permanently  unpleasing, 
because  they  were  natural  and  earnest.  They  never 
owed  a  favorable  impression  to  their  correspondence 
with  the  forms  of  society,  but  to  their  expressing  cor- 
rectly his  own  feelings  at  the  time.  They  had  not  that 
equal  blandness,  which  belongs  to  some  men  whose 
pride  it  is  to  be  always  polite ;  as  they  conveyed  his 
feelings,  they  varied  with  his  feeluigs.  He  might  be 
sometimes  less  cordial  than  he  felt,  never  rnore  so. 
The  lassitude  and  depression  of  ill  health,  as  well  as 
his  natural  shyness  and  reserve,  often  caused  him  to 
express  less  than  he  meant ;  a  regard  to  conventional 
forms  never  made  him  express  more.     Hence  he  might 

VOL.  n.  22* 


258  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

be  at  first  repulsive,  because  he  was  no  formalist,  and 
could  not  assume  the  expression  of  more  cordiality  than 
he  felt :  but  this  soon  wore  off,  for  gentleness  and  kind- 
ness were  his  predominant  feelings  toward  all,  and  it 
was  soon  seen,  that  he  was  smcere,  and  felt  always  at 
least  as  much  interest  as  he  professed. 

Though  he  loved  human  intercourse,  yet  there  are 
few,  who  so  seldom  meet  men  for  the  mere  purpose  of 
meeting  them.  He  enjoyed  literary  and  refined  society, 
yet  he  never  directly  sought  admission  to  it.  He  per- 
haps, indirectly,  rather  avoided  the  ordinary  social 
communication  of  this  kind,  especially  while  a  parish 
minister.  During  this  period  of  his  life,  he  was  brought 
so  much  into  contact  with  his  people  and  others,  when 
obliged  to  meet  them  for  some  specific  purpose,  that  he 
had  no  time  left  for  other  intercourse,  and  therefore 
seldom  appeared  in  general  society.  After  his  removal 
to  Cambridge,  the  same  remark  is  generally,  though 
less  strictly,  true  of  him.  But  he  was  always  a  most 
huportant  member  of  the  wide  family  circle  to  which 
he  belonged ;  their  friendly  meetings  were  very  delight- 
ful to  him,  and  by  his  good  humor,  cheerfulness,  and 
kind  interest  in  all,  he  essentially  contributed  to  their 
enjoyment. 

Though  most  friendly  in  his  feelings  towards  all,  he 
was,  properly  speaking,  on  terms  of  close  intimacy  with 
very  few,  except  those  connected  with  him  by  the  tie 
of  consanguinity.  Yet  no  one  was  more  ready  to  per- 
form the  duties  of  a  friend,  even  to  those,  of  whom  he 
knew  little,  and  who  had  but*  a  slender  claim  on  his 
attention.  There  are  few  who  have  performed  kind 
oflices  for  so  many,  or  who  have  so  often  forgot  them- 
selves in  their  desire  to  serve  others.     This  disposition, 


JR.  259 

in  many  cases,  degenerated  into  a  weakness,  of  which 
he  was  well  aAvare.  He  frequently  regretted  a  facility 
of  temper,  which  caused  him  to  be  overburdened  with 
occupation,  too  much  of  it  in  the  service  of  those  who 
had  no  right  to  his  time;  and  which  prevented  him 
from  saying  No,  when  it  was  most  clearly  his  duty  so 
to  do. 

As  a  result  of  the  reliance  felt  on  his  willingness  to 
serve,  as  also  of  confidence  in  his  judgment,  he  was 
constantly  called  on  for  advice  by  his  brethren  ;  and, 
having  been  engaged  in  the  education  of  young  minis- 
ters, they  were  accustomed  to  look  back  to  him  as  a 
counsellor  in  circumstances  of  doubt  and  difficulty. 
The  number  of  such  applications,— coming,  as  they 
did,  from  his  brethren  in  the  ministry,  his  former 
pupils,  persons  interested  in  forming  new  societies  in 
various  parts  of  the  country,  vacant  parishes  in  search 
of  preachers,  and  feeble  parishes  struggling  with  insuf- 
ficient means, — was  so  great  as  to  form  a  serious  addi- 
tion to  his  other  occupations.  He  became  a  sort  of  cen- 
tral point  of  the  denomination,  to  Avhich  inquiries  were 
directed,  and  from  which  aid  was  sought. 

He  did  not  hesitate  sometimes,  when  he  judged  it 
necessary,  and  when  he  thought  it  became  him,  to 
assume  the  office  of  a  counsellor  and  even  of  a  censor. 
He  not  only  offered  his  advice  to  those  who  seemed  to 
be  pursuing  a  doubtful  path,  but  took  occasion  some- 
times to  administer  reproof  It  is  remarkable,  that, 
notwithstanding  the  freedom  with  which  he  did  this, 
there  was  hardly  any  instance  in  which  he  gave  offence, 
and  there  were  very  many  in  which  his  admonition 
was  received  with  gratitude.  The  following  are  exam- 
ples of  his  manner  of  addressing  those  whom  he  wished 


260 

to  influence ;  the  first  relating  to  the  style  of  preaching 
of  one  in  whom  he  took  a  great  interest,  and  the  second, 
to  the  pubUcation,  in  a  periodical  work,  of  an  article 
written  in  what  he  thought  a  wrong  spirit,  by  one 
whom  also  he  held  in  high  regard. 

*'  You  encouraged  me  in  one  of  your  notes  to  believe,  that 
my  suggestions  respecting  your  preaching  would  be  welcome ; 
and,  as  I  am  ambitious  for  you  that  you  should  preach  as 
effectually  as  possible,  I  will  venture  a  few  words  of  criticism. 
I  do  not  know,  indeed,  that  I  have  anything  to  say  beyond 
what  I  have  said  already  ;  but,  as  you  are  rather  peculiar  in 
your  peculiarity,  which  is  a  fascinating  one,  and  likely  to  do 
.you  harm  by  being  misunderstood,  as  you  say  it  has  been,  I 
think  it  cannot  be  amiss  to  add  a  remark  or  two  which  have 
occurred  to  me,  and  this  the  rather,  because  there  only  needs 
a  little  modification  and  caution,  to  render  yours  the  truest, 
most  interesting,  and  most  effective  method.  Your  danger 
lies  simply  in  this, — in  neglecting  the  Scriptures,  and  making 
too  little  of  the  power  of  association  over  men's  minds.  This 
was  evident  from  your  mode  of  expression  in  your  introduc- 
tory sermon,  where  you  spoke  disparagingly  of  that  preaching 
which  is  founded  on  texts  and  the  exposition  of  Scripture 
phrases.  How  much  you  meant  by  this,  I  do  not  know  ;  but 
the  impression  left  on  my  mind  was,  that  you  meant  all  that 
I  have  now  expressed.  Now,  if  so,  you  are  clearly  wrong, 
and  will  infallibly  defeat  your  great  object.  You  wish  to 
make  preaching  more  effective  by  bringing  to  its  service  all 
subjects  of  human  interest ;  and  this  is  right ;  you  cannot  go 
too  far,  nor  gather  too  widely.  But  another  thing  is  to  be 
done,  namely,  to  secure  men's  attention,— their  willing,  wel- 
come, respectful  attention,— to  what  you  thus  present.  If 
you  do  not  this,  all  is  vain.  And  this  you  will  fail  to  do,  if 
you  give  the  impression,  that  you  contemn  or  neglect  that 
Book  which  to  them  is  the  great  prime  source  of  truth  and 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  261 

authority,  or  that  you  are  fond  of  irreverent,  and,  as  appears 
to  them,  profane  illustrations.  If  you  would  have  them  show 
respect  to  your  mode  of  teaching,  you  must  pay  respect  to 
their  preferences  and  prejudices  in  these  particulars.  You 
must  draw  perpetually  from  the  Bible,  which  is  their  supreme 
and  sacred  authority,  and  sanction  and  make  sacred  your 
illustrations  from  other  sources,  by  connecting  them  with 
those  of  Scripture.  Men  have  been  so  long  taught,  that 
nothing  is  religious  but  what  comes  direct  from  revelation, 
that  it  requires  the  greatest  circumspection  to  bring  them  to  a 
juster  view ;  and  it  would  be  a  pity  to  fail  of  so  good  an  end, 
merely  from  unwise  disregard  of  their  established  associa- 
tions. You  showed,  in  a  striking  manner,  that  much  of  our 
Saviour's  imagery  owes  its  sacredness  to  association  alone  ; 
and  this  fact  teaches,  I  think,  decisively,  how  important  it  is 
to  consult  that  principle  of  the  human  constitution,  which  is 
able  to  convert  the  common  into  the  sacred,  and  make  the 
innocent  appear  profane.  If  thus  guarded,  your  principle  is 
the  best ;  and  I  trust  that  you  v;i\\  put  a  guard  upon  it  beyond 
what  you  have  threatened." 

"  I  have  been  reading  your  Review ;  and,  as  I  made  some 
a  priori  remarks  on  it  the  other  day,  I  feel  bound  to  add  a 
few  a  posteriori.     I  hardly  know  which  you  will  like  best. 

"  If  the  thing  must  be  done,  I  am  quite  satisfied  that  (with 
one  exception,  of  which  anon,)  it  could  not  be  better  done. 
You  have  taken  up  the  thing  right  and  thoroughly,— have  laid 
bare,  with  great  clearness  and  strength,  the  book  and  its  pre- 
tensions, and  have  given  an  air  of  completeness  to  your  work. 
Consequently  you  will  hear  the  article  well  spoken  of;  but, 
when  yoi6  do  not  hear,  people  will  talk  of  the  thing  I  allude 
to  above  as  an  exception.  I  will  talk  of  it  to  you,  and  not 
behind  your  back ;  and  I  am  sure  you  will  take  the  criticism 
as  kindly  as  it  is  meant. 


262  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

"  There  is  a  certain  tone  about  it,  an  ah\  which  will  be  to 
most  serious  readers  offensive  ;  it  will  be  felt  to  be  unsuited 
to  the  character  of  the  subjects  connected  with  the  discussion, 
as  adapted  less  to  convince  and  amend,  than  to  wound,  vex, 
and  irritate  ;  something  too  much  of  the  manner  of  petty- 
squabbles  in  politics  and  newspapers,  and  therefore  below  the 
dignity,  and  foreign  to  the  solemnit}'-,  of  religious  discussion. 
You  will  say  that  I  am  severe.  I  do  state  the  thing  in  strong 
terms,  though  the  specimen  you  have  given  of  this  manner 
does  not  come  up  to  the  strength  of  my  description.  I  mean 
to  point  out  the  full  grown  appearance  of  a  style,  on  the  bor- 
ders of  which  you  tread,  (excuse  confusion  of  figures,)  and 
which  all  opponents  will  ascribe  to  your  piece  in  its  full  enor- 
mity, while  many  of  your  best  friends  will  be  wounded  to 
witness  it  in  any  degree.  Eead  over  the  article,  and  imagine 
it  written  for  '  The  Spirit  of  the  Pilgrims,'  in  review  of  a 
.book  of  yours  or  mine,  and  you  will  perceive  what  I  mean. 

"  Now,  I  think  that  it  is  of  great  importance  to  good  feel- 
ing, as  well  as  moral  duty,  to  avoid,  in  controversy,  all  that 
tends,  unnecessarily,  to  irritate  and  offend.  I  think  that  a 
writer's  real  influence  depends  on  his  doing  so.  He  that  gets 
the  reputation  of  saying  things  tartly,  soon  comes  to  be  dis- 
trusted by  his  own  party,  and  to  lose  all  possibility  of  benefit- 
ing the  other.  Now,  I  should  be  extremely  grieved  to  have 
you  inadvertently  fall  into  this  error.  You  have  the  power 
to  become  a  person  of  influence  in  the  religious  community, 
and  to  take  a  leading  part  in  the  direction  of  the  religious 
mind.  God  has  so  gifted  you,  that  this  becomes  your  lot  and 
your  duty ;— a  nobler  lot,  a  more  exalted,  yet  fearful  duty, 
cannot  pertain  to  man.  I  look  with  the  greatest  interest  to 
the  part  which  you  shall  act ;  it  cannot  be,  it  must  not  be,  a 
second  one,  it  ought  not  to  be  a  mistaken  one  ;  and  I  feel  at 
this  moment  thankful,  that  my  connexion  warrants  me  in 
giving  you  a  caution  against  a  certain  way  of  expressing 
yourself,  which,  if  it  should  beconfe  habitual  or  characteristic, 


JR.  263 

would  infallibly  injure  your  influence  and  detract  from  your 
usefulness.  If  you  will  govern  your  powerful  and  acute  pen 
by  the  rules  of  dignity  and  suavity,  and,  even  when  duty 
demands  severity,  will  qualify  it  with  kindness,  ('  rebuking 
the  elder  as  fathers,  and  the  younger  as  brothers,''  as  Paul 
says,)  and  studiously  avoid  all  expressions  of  contempt,  you 
may  do  great  service  without  any  drawback,  and  be  one  of 
the  trusted,  as  well  as  praised. 

"  I  almost  fear  I  have  used  too  many  words,  but  you  will 
excuse  me  for  my  motive's  sake." 

The  most  noticeable  characteristic  of  his  intellect 
seems  to  have  been  that  general  equality  of  the  dif- 
ferent faculties, — that  just  proportion  and  balance  of 
power  among  them, — which  constitutes  the  most  useful 
and  available  mind.  It  was  the  intellect  of  this  descrip- 
tion, sanctified,  as  it  were,  by  the  moral  elements  of  his 
character,  which  gave  him  his  strong  hold  on  the  love 
and  confidence  of  men.  Perhaps  the  most  important  of 
these  elements  Avas  a  perfect  and  entire  sympathy  with, 
and  love  of,  mankind,  under  all  circumstances  and  con- 
ditions, with  all  degrees  of  cultivation,  and  with  every 
variety  of  moral  character.  This  had  much  to  do  with 
his  general  acceptance,  and  his  power  of  exercising 
influence  over  all  classes  of  men.  With  most  persons, 
even  many  who  would  little  suspect  it,  this  sympathy 
is  limited.  It  relates  to  people  of  a  certain  sort,  of  their 
own  condition,  or  the  good  and  virtuous  of  all  condi- 
tions. But  with  him  there  was  no  such  limitation. 
He  always  practically  recognized  the  perfect  equality 
of  his  fellow  men  as  the  subjects  of  religion.  Looking 
at  them  in  this  way,  he  felt  a  like  interest  in  all,  and 
adventitious  distinctions  became  comparatively  as  noth- 


264  LIFE   OF   HENRY   WARE,   JR. 

ing.  He  enjoyed  highly  the  society  of  his  worldly 
equals,  the  cultivated  portion  of  the  community;  but 
he  could  also  enjoy  the  society  of  those  who  would  be 
reputed  his  inferiors.  He  sympathized  with  both  alike ; 
for  he  knew,  that  in  their  essential  features,  as  the  sub- 
jects of  religion,  different  classes  differed  much  less, 
than  their  external  condition  and  cultivation,  and  even 
their  external  observances  of  religion,  would  seem  to 
imply. 

The  predominating  element  in  his  religious  character, 
from  which  others  flowed  as  a  necessary  consequence, 
was  the  entireness  of  his  faith.  I  do  not  mean,  merely, 
entireness  of  belief  in  the  reality  of  religion ;  but  that 
total  surrender  of  his  whole  moral  and  intellectual  being 
to  it,  which  is  indicated  by  a  constant  and  complete  per^ 
cejytion  of  its  universal  relations  to  the  world  without  us 
and  the  world  within  us.  So  much  had  this  become  the 
prevailing  tenor  of  his  mind,  that  it  seemed  almost  like 
the  result  of  instinct.  Doubtless  he  had  to  go  through 
with  that  struggle  against  tendencies  to  evil,  which  is 
essential  to  the  formation  of  a  moral  character ;  but,  to 
aid  him  in  this  struggle,  he  had,  from  the  earliest  period 
of  life,  established  convictions  and  feelings  on  religion, 
such  as  most  men  attain  to  only  after  long  and  painful 
efforts.  He  seems  never  to  have  suffered  that  unsettled 
condition  of  mind,  in  which  men  are  passing  from  aver- 
sion, or  indifference,  to  interest  in  religion,  and  from 
doubt,  or,  at  best,  hesitancy,  to  conviction ;  and  never  to 
have  undergone  that  terrible  trial,  to  which  many  persons 
of  the  best  understandings  have  been  subjected,  in  which 
our  virtue  is  assaulted  through  our  faith,  and  the  temp- 
tations of  life  derive  half  their  force  from  our  doubts. 
He  had  of  course  gone  through  an  examination  into  the 


JR.  '        265 

evidences  of  religion;  and,  to  a  mind  like  his,  fully 
aware  of  the  painful  state  of  uncertainty  into  which  so 
many  fall,  it  must  have  been  a  high  enjoyment  to  sur- 
vey the  impregnable  array,  by  which  the  truth  of  Chris- 
tianity is  fortified.  But  I  doubt  whether  his  own  feel- 
ing of  security  was  ever  made  stronger  by  such  studies. 
He  engaged  in  them  as  a  part  of  professional  prepara- 
tion, and  delighted  to  dwell  on  them  as  a  preacher,  and 
to  analyze  and  display  them  as  an  instructor,  because 
he  knew  well  how  necessary  they  are  to  many  minds ; 
but  he  did  not  require  them  in  order  to  increase  his  own 
assurance  of  the  truth. 

Another  of  his  characteristics  was  the  just  estimate 
he  formed  of  his  own  capacity.  He  knew  well  where 
his  strength  lay ;  in  what  he  should  succeed,  and  in 
what  he  should  fail.  He  had  measured  himself,  better 
than  most  others  had  measured  him ;  and  he  well  knew 
that  he  was  not  suited  to  certain  offices  and  enterprises, 
for  which  many  regarded  him  as  being  fit.  As  a  con- 
sequence of  this,  he  had  great  courage,  self-dependence, 
and  assurance  of  success,  when  engaged  in  that  to 
which  he  felt  himself  adequate;  but  these  qualities 
would  have  failed  him  entirely,  had  he  ever  sought  to 
distinguish  himself  by  efibrts  which  he  knew  to  be  out 
of  his  proper  sphere  ;  and  he  would  have  shrunk  back 
mider  the  paralyzing  influence  of  his  natural  diffi- 
dence. 

In  one  respect  this  remark  may  not  seem  to  hold 
perfectly  true.  He  did  not  always  duly  estimate  the 
ainount  he  had  the  ability  to  accomplish,  though  he 
judged  rightly  as  to  the  kind.  It  was  characteristic  of 
him  through  life  to  be  full  of  schemes  and  projects.  If 
one  occurred  to  him  which  struck  him  favorably,  he 

VOL.  II.  23 


266  '  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

seized  upon  it  with  avidity,  laid  it  out  in  his  mind, 
methodized  it,  saw  of  what  it  was  capable,  devised 
means  for  its  accomplishment,  and  dashed  into  it  at 
once  with  great  ardor,  but  without  duly  considering 
whether  he  would  have  time  to  go  on,  or  how  many 
other  plans  he  had  on  hand,  which  he  had  entertained 
with  a  like  zeal,  but  which  absolute  necessity  had  com- 
pelled him  to  suspend  or  lay  aside.  This  was  especially 
true  of  his  literary  projects.  To  a  certain  extent,  this 
practice  was  an  improving  process ;  it  produced  a  facil- 
ity of  invention  and  arrangement,  which  was  of  great 
service,  particularly  in  the  composition  of  sermons ;  since 
he  thus  had  always  many  laid  out  in  his  mind,  or 
sketched  on  paper,  which  it  required  only  the  time  of 
composition  to  complete. 

He  could  scarcely  be  said  to  have  habits  of  study. 
During  his  ministry,  his  whole  aim  was  to  perform  well 
the  duties  of  his  office,  and  to  promote,  incidentally, 
such  other  objects  as  are  properly  Avithin  the  province 
of  a  Christian  minister.  Distinct  from  this,  he  had  no 
literary  or  professional  purpose  to  answer,  and  no  repu- 
tation to  seek.  His  pursuits,  therefore,  did  not  require 
that  systematic  and  continued  study,  which  is  neces- 
sary to  those  whose  object  is  high  professional  learning. 
Generally,  he  had  some  practical  purpose  directly  in 
view,  to  which  his  reading  and  thoughts  were  particu- 
larly directed:  when  this  was  not  the  case,  they  were 
apt  to  be  guided  very  much  by  accident,  and  were 
therefore  desultory.  But  it  will  be  seen,  by  referring  to 
the  list  of  his  writings,--  that  he  must  have  had  some 
of  them  almost  constantly  in  contemplation  or  in  prep- 
aration, with  a  view  to  their  being  speedily  published; 

*See  Appendix  B. 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  267 

and  that  most  of  them,  also,  were  intended  to  answer 
some  immediate  end.  Thus  his  course  of  study  and 
thinking  was  always  directed  by  a  regard  to  the  purpose 
which  interested  him  at  the  time.  But,  as  his  purposes 
varied  indefinitely,  so  he  had  no  fixed  course  of  study. 
His  whole  soul  was  given  to  the  object  before  him; 
when,  this  was  accomplished,  his  attention  to  it  remitted, 
and,  in  a  certain  sense,  his  interest  in  it  was  lost,  or  at 
least  his  mind  ceased  to  dwell  upon  it.  Hence, 
although  there  are  not  many  men  who  have  been  more 
constantly  active,  have  read  more  books,  or  have  writ- 
ten more,  yet  there  was  perhaps  no  one  branch  of  pro- 
fessional study,  of  which  he  had  made  himself  thor- 
oughly master. 

So,  too,  when  a  teacher  in  the  Divinity  School ;  his 
department  required  rather  personal  acquaintance  with 
the  duties  and  difiiculties  of  the  ministerial  office,  than 
the  thorough  discipline  of  an  accomplished  theologian. 
Fitness  for  this  place  would  be  more  the  result  of  a 
faithful  and  successful  devotion  to  the  actual  labors  of 
a  pastor,  than  of  extensive  acquaintance  with  books. 
It  required  Avisdom  rather  than  learning,  and  a  practical 
man  more  than  a  scholar. 

He  could  not  therefore  be  called,  in  the  common  sense 
of  the  words,  a  hard  student  or  an  accomplished  scholar, 
though  he  studied  a  great  deal  and  read  a  great  many 
books,  and  read  them,  so  far  as  his  objects  in  life  were 
concerned,  to  great  advantage.  We  see  in  certain  men, 
whose  ruhng  passion  in  life  is  the  love  of  wealth  or  of 
reputation,  that  their  great  purpose  is  ever  before  them  ; 
everything  is  made  subservient  to  it,  and  they  touch 
nothing  which  does  not  seem  to  turn,  under  their  hands, 
to  gold  or  to  fame.     It  was  so  with  our  subject.     He 


268  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

never  lost  sight  of  the  purpose  of  his  life ;  not  only  his 
studies,  but  his  lighter  reading,  his  recreations  and 
amusements,  his  intercourse  with  man  and  with  nature, 
were  all  timied  to  its  service,  and  made  to  furnish  ma- 
terials for  its  accomplishment.  It  was  a  steady  earnest- 
ness in  his  regard  to  the  end,  which  supplied  in  him  the 
place  of  a  methodical  and  systematic  arrangement  of 
means.  His  aims  were  perfectly  single  and  definite; 
and  yet  he  might  seem,  as  indeed  he  was,  exceedingly 
desultory  and  miscellaneous  in  the  manner  in  which  he 
occupied  himself  in  seeking  to  effect  them. 

He  was  very  happy,  during  all  the  earlier  portion  of 
his  life,  in  the  possession  of  a  certain  tranquillity  of 
spirit,  which  prevented  him  from  being  disturbed  in  his 
occupations  by  the  little,  common  interruptions,  which 
are  so  annoying  to  most  students.  He  had,  to  a  great 
degree,  the  power  of  abstracting  himself  from  the  things 
about  him.  He  preferred  to  read  and  write  in  the  same 
room  with  his  family.  The  conversation  of  others,  the 
sports  of  his  children,  did  not  perplex  him.  He  could 
at  intervals  listen  to,  and  take  a  part  in,  whatever  was 
going  on,  and  yet,  in  the  main,  keep  close  to  the  train 
of  his  own  thoughts.  He  often  wrote  with  one  of  his 
children  in  his  arms,  and  some  of  his  letters  and  ser- 
mons bear  marks  of  other  hands  than  his  own. 

He  was  naturally  disposed  to  indolence,  and  it  re- 
quired an  effort  to  begin  any  occupation  requiring  much 
exertion  either  of  body  or  mind ;  consequently  he  was 
very  unequal  in  his  devotion  to  study.  It  was  only 
when  he  had  committed  himself  to  the  accomplishment 
of  some  object,  or  felt  the  actual  pressure  of  his  regular 
engagements,  that  he  could  set  himself  resolutely  to 
work.     But,  when  actually  at  work  and  warm  in  the 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,    JR.  269 

harness,  he  became  excited ;  and  it  was  rather  a  pleas- 
ure to  keep  on  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  till  his  task  was 
done.  In  this  mood,  he  often  indulged  himself  in  pro- 
tracted periods  of  labor,  and  continued  writing  to  a  very 
late  hour  at  night. 

This  disposition  led  to  a  habit  of  procrastination  and 
of  irresolution  in  undertaking  many  things,  to  which  he 
felt  that  he  ought  to  attend.  It  was  often  the  source  of 
self-reproach  and  sometimes  of  mortification.  It  caused 
him  to  defer  attention  to  persons  and  things  in  which 
he  really  felt  a  deep  interest,  while  it  would  very  natu- 
rally seem  to  others  that  its  omission  was  intentional. 
There  was  some  excuse  for  this,  undoubtedly,  in  his 
very  frequent  indisposition,  and  the  interruptions,  almost 
innumerable,  to  which  he  was  subject.  But  he  never 
felt  this  to  be  a  sufficient  apology;  and  his  journal, 
when  he  kept  one,  contained  frequent  expressions  of 
self-reproach  for  such  neglects,— for  waste  of  time  and 
opportunity,— and  many  plans  for  a  more  methodical 
and  persevering  devotion  of  himself  to  his  duties.  "  As 
for  myself,"  he  says  in  a  letter,  "I  am  such  an  irreso- 
lute, inconstant,  inconsistent  being,  that  I  have  no  plan. 
I  talk  instead  of  reading,  sleep  instead  of  studying,  and 
make  resolutions  instead  of  keeping  them.'' 

If  he  had  properly  a  worldly  ambition  for  anything, 
it  was  for  the  fame  of  a  poet.  He  had  constantly  in- 
view  great  objects  to  accomplish,  and  he  therefore  de- 
rived the  greatest  satisfaction  from  those  employments 
which  promoted  them.  But,  apart  from  this  source  of 
interest,  he  took  more  pleasure  in  poetical  composition, 
than  in  any  other  occupation ;  and,  although  he  indulged 
himself  in  it  but  little,  it  was  an  occupation  more  to  his 
original  taste  than  any  other.     When  his  mind  was 

VOL.  II.  23^ 


270  LIFE   OF   HENRY  WARE,    JR. 

entirely  unbent,  when  he  had  no  immediate  purpose  to 
accomphsh,  as  in  travelling  or  in  sickness,  he  almost 
instinctively  turned  to  poetry  for  rest  and  refreshment. 
But,  with  this  strong  love  for  it,  it  was  after  all  only  an 
accident  in  his  life.  He  has  only  left  enough  to  show 
of  what  he  was  capable,  had  he  not  been  so  exclusively 
occupied  with  what,  in  his  view,  had  higher  claims  on 
his  attention.  His  friend  Dr.  Gannett,  in  a  notice 
already  quoted,  says:  ''There  was  in  the  exercise  of 
his  mtellectual  powers  a  peculiarity,  which  can  be  ex- 
plained only  by  reference  to  the  purpose  for  which  he 
was  resolved  to  live.  I  do  not  remember,  in  all  the 
prose  compositions  which  came  from  his  pen,  numerous 
as  they  were,  one  which  indicates  the  possession  of  un- 
common talent;  while  two  or  three  poetical  pieces, 
which  he  produced  in  moments  of  leisure,  are  marked 
with  the  attributes  of  genius.  I  apprehend,  that,  so 
stern  was  his  fidelity  to  the  purpose  of  usefulness  which 
he  cherished,  it  deterred  him  from  infusing  into  his  ser- 
mons and  religious  essays  the  qualities,  which  might 
have  raised  them  in  some  measure  above  the  common 
mind,  and  have  therefore  limited  their  beneficial  influ- 
ence. By  a  reference  to  this  ruling  passion  of  his  mmd. 
as  we  might  be  justified  in  styling  it,  we  know  may  be 
explained  another  circumstance,  connected  with  his 
writings,  which  many  may  have  lamented.  He  under- 
took no  work  that  should  elevate  him  by  the  side  of 
those  theologians,  or  instructors  of  their  age,  whose  vol- 
umes are  studied  by  subsequent  generations." 

His  wife  one  day  said  to  him,  when  he  had  been 
giving  a  good  deal  of  time  to  the  revision  of  sermons, 
and  articles  for  periodicals,  newspapers,  &c.,  that  "she 
wished,  instead  of  frittering  away  his  time  and  thoughts 


LIFE    OF    HENRY    WARE,   JR.  271 

in  this  way,  upon  ephemeral  productions,  he  would  con- 
centrate the  same  amount  upon  some  single  work,  which 
would  be  of  substantial  value."  He  looked  up  with  a 
smile  and  replied  :  '^  Now  that  is  your  ambition  for  me; 
for  my  part,  I  am  glad  to  do  the  httle  good  I  can  in  any 
way  that  presents  itself;  no  matter  if  all  is  forgotten  to- 
morrow, provided  a  seed  is  sown  to-day ;  it  will  germi- 
nate some  time  or  other." 

He  was,  as  far  as  any  man  can  be,  devoid  of  the  nat- 
ural desire  of  worldly  possessions.  The  love  of  prop- 
erty, for  its  own  sake,  was  a  feeling  that  seemed  never 
to  have  a  place  in  his  mind.  He  had  indeed,  consider- 
ing his  feeble  hold  on  life,  too  little  prospective  regard 
for  his  condition  in  this  respect ;  and  the  idea  of  accu- 
mulation, even  for  future  necessity,  was  one  to  which 
he  was  brought  only  with  much  difficulty.  His  emol- 
uments were  never  great,  even  for  his  profession ;  whilst, 
from  frequent  sickness  in  his  family,  and  from  the  great 
number  of  friends  and  strangers  whom  he  was  called 
upon  to  entertain,  his  means  were  at  no  time  more  than 
sufficient  for  his  expenses,  and,  during  most  of  his  life, 
would  not  have  been  sufficient  for  them,  without  other 
resources  than  the  income  of  his  office.  He  was  there- 
fore generally  somewhat  straitened  in  his  circumstances, 
especially  as  there  was,  combined  Avith  this,  a  natural 
indifference  to  money,  and  a  want  of  regard  to  the  due 
proportion  between  different  branches  of  expenditure. 
He  often  wished  for  wealth,  but  it  was  usually  when  he 
saw  some  good  cause  languishing  for  want  of  that  sort 
of  aid  which  wealth  alone  can  give ;  and,  in  such  a 
case,  he  was  always  ready  to  contribute  far  more  than 
his  share,  without  any  forethought  of  his  own  wants. 

He  was  frequently  made  the  medium  of  pecuniary 


272  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

donations  by  the  ricb  for  benevolent  purposes ;  he  was 
also  in  the  habit  of  applying  freely  to  them  for  aid ; 
and,  while  a  teacher  in  the  Theological  School,  he 
sought  and  received  contributions  to  a  large  amount  for 
the  purpose  of  assisting  indigent  students  of  divinity. 
He  stated,  as  a  very  gratifying  fact  in  its  connexion 
with  the  character  of  men  of  wealth  in  this  commmiity, 
that,  of  all  his  applications  of  this  description,  he  recol- 
lected but  a  single  instance  which  was  not  successful, 
whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  most  of  those  to  whom  he 
applied,  were  not  only  willing,  but  seemed  grateful  for 
an  opportunity  of  promoting  such  a  purpose. 

I  have  only  to  add  to  these  records  of  my  own  recol- 
lections, a  few  of  those  for  which  I  am  obliged  to  others. 
To  some  reminiscences  furnished  me  by  one  of  his  val- 
ued parishioners,  Mr.  Peter  Mackintosh,  Jr.,  I  have  been 
already  much  indebted  in  the  account  given  of  his  min- 
isterial life.  The  following  passages,  also,  are  extracted 
from  them.  Speaking  of  the  Hancock  Sunday  School, 
Mr.  Mackintosh  says : 

"  I  had  often  the  pleasure  of  witnessing  the  deep  interest 
taken  by  Mr.  Ware  in  this  Sunday  school.  He  seemed  to 
view  it  with  a  prophetic  eye,  as  the  nucleus  of  a  great  reli- 
gious instrumentality;  one  calculated  to  give  a  new  impulse  to 
the  cause  of  Christ.  Hence  his  influence,  his  advice,  his  labor, 
so  far  as  he  could  bestow  them,  were  never  withheld.  I  well 
know  his  heart  was  ever  full  of  love  for  all  children ;  but  to 
poor,  ignorant,  and  neglected  children,  whose  religious  educa- 
tion had  never  been  cared  for,  whose  only  church  was  a 
wharf  or  a  blind  court, — to  those  his  heart  yearned  with  a 
love  like  the  Saviour's.  At  this  time  (1823)  there  was  no 
Sunday  school  connected  with  the  Second  Church.  This 
circumstance  afforded  him  more   opportunities    and    greater 


JR.  273 

facilities  for  advancing  the  best  interests  of  this  §chooL  The 
children  of  the  poor,  and  those  of  parents  in  more  favored 
circumstances,  met  together ;  and  in  their  midst  he  v/as  to  be 
found,  who,  in  the  spirit  of  his  Master,  '  \yent  about  doing 

good.' 

"  Mr.  Ware  was  ever  kind  to  the  poor  members  of  his 
flock.  Being  Treasurer  of  the  church,  I  had  abundant  oppor- 
tunity to  know  this  fact.  Formerly,  it  was  the  custom  of  the 
deacons  to  act  as  almoners  to  the  parish.  But,  finding  that 
Mr.  Ware  was  in  the  habit  of  disposing  freely  of  his  own 
funds,  a  plan  was  adopted  of  placing  a  portion  of  the  money 
at  his  disposal  for  private  distribution.  This  plan  enabled 
him  to  relieve  many  persons,  who  would  have  shrunk  from 
receiving  charity  at  any  other  hands  than  those  of  their  be- 
loved pastor." 

In  the  early  part  of  this  Memoir  were  inserted  some 
notices  of  his  college  life  and  character,  by  his  early 
friend  and  classmate,  Mr.  Loring.  The  letter  contain- 
ing them  has  also  some  other  remarks,  which  are  here 
inserted. 

"  As  I  have  listened  with  intense  interest  to  his  discourses 
from  the  pulpit,  and  none  ever  went  deeper  to  my  heart,  I 
have  often  wondered  how  he  could  produce  such  astonishing 
results  upon  the  minds  of  his  audience,  with  the  apparently 
simple  materials  he  had  collected.  His  exordium  and  the 
early  portions  of  his  address  would  seem  almost  trite  and 
common-place,  but  for  the  beautiful  transparency  of  the  style, 
and  the  apostolic  simplicity  of  his  manner  :  ere  long,  however, 
these  seemingly  quiet,  inert  elements  were,  by  some  sud- 
den yet  perfectly  natural  and  almost  unperceived  combina- 
tion, collected  like  scattered  rays  into  a  focus,  shedding  the 
brightest  light  upon  some  topic  of  moral  duty,  or  exhibiting 
in  a  broad  glare  the  hideous  deformity  of  some  common  sin, 


274  LIFE    OF    HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

or  kindling 'the  flame  of  earnest  devotion,  throughout  the 
whole  assembly.  And  I  delight  to  trace  the  beautiful  analogy 
of  his  life  and  writings  ;  his  widel}^  extended  fame  and  ben- 
eficial influence -on  society,  —  a  light  shining  far  and  wide, — 
the  beammg  combination  of  all  those  quiet  and  unpretending 
yet  most  earnest  Christian  graces  and  virtues,  which  marked 
him  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 

"  His  rank  in  his  class  was  constantly  progressive,  as  it  ever 
after  continued  to  be  among  men.  And  he  was  one,  and  to 
me  the  most  striking,  of  the  examples  of  the  superiority  of 
that  class  of  intellects  over  the  precocious  and  brilliant,  v*'hich 
was  first  deeply  impressed  upon  my  mind,  and  which  the 
observation  of  all  subsequent  life  has  confirmed." 

Of  that  very  important  part  of  his  relation  to  the 
Theological  School,  his  personal  connexion  with  the 
pupils,  I  have  in  the  course  of  the  above  narrative  said 
nothing.  I  have  preferred  to  leave  it  to  this  place,  and 
to  trust,  for  the  illustration  of  his  character  in  this 
respect,  to  the  following  passages,  derived  from  various 
sources.  The  Rev.  Chandler  Robhins,  a  student  in  the 
School  at  the  time  of  his  accession,  Avrites  thus : 

"J  well  remember  the  joy  which  was  awakened  in  the  School, 
at  the  announcement  of  his  election.  No  instructor  was  ever 
more  warmly  welcomed  by  his  pupils,  at  the  commencement  of 
his  relation  to  them.  This  ardor  of  our  interest,  however  grat- 
ifying to  him,  and  on  many  accounts  advantageous,  was,  of 
course,  not  without  its  dangers  and  discouragements.  Should 
he  fail  to  fulfil  our  high  expectations,  our  disappointment  would 
be  the  greater,  and  his  regrets  the  more  distressing.  Besides, 
it  would  require  unusual  richness  of  ability  and  steadiness  of 
exertion  to  sustain  so  exalted  a  regard  in  the  continuance  and 
details  of  a  difTicult  and  responsible  office.     But  it  is  not  prob- 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,  JR.  275 

able  that  Mr.  Ware  fully  realized  the  strength  of  our  attach- 
ment, or  the  greatness  of  our  anticipati-ons ;  and,  therefore,  it 
is  unlikely  that  he  had  an  adequate  idea  either  of  its  dangers 
or  its  advantages.  He  certainly  seemed  to  us  to  enter  upon 
his  duties  with  entire  simplicity  and  composure  of  spirit ; 
neither  elated  nor  depressed ;  neither  promising  much  on  his 
own  part,  nor  exacting,  nor  deprecating,  anything  on  the  part 
of  the  Students  ; — with  mingled  humility  and  confidence. 

"  This  deportment  would  have  been  prudent  under  such 
circumstances ;  but  with  him  it  was  evidently  less  the  result 
of  premeditation,  than  the  inartificial  manifestation  of  his 
ordinary  character.  We  saw  at  once,  that  there  was  nothing 
factitious  about  him.  We  perceived,  that  he  was  not  influ- 
enced by  any  selfish  motives.  AVe  felt,  that  the  quiet  and 
patient  performance  of  his  present  duties  to  us,  and  not  our 
appreciation  of  him,  was  the  great  matter  that  occupied  his 
thoughts. 

"  This  absence  of  personal  ambition  and  of  the  anxiety  of 
selfishness, — one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  truly  Christian 
characteristics  of  Mr.  Ware,— was  the  first  quality,  that,  dis- 
tinctly and  from  experience,  impressed  itself  upon  me  in  the 
School; — an  impression  wdiich  my  long  and  intimate  subse- 
quent acquaintance  only  deepened.  I  think  that  others,  if 
they  will  analyze  their  feelings  as  they  remember  him,  will 
agree  with  me  in  selecting  the  conviction  of  this  virtue,  as 
one  of  the  earliest  and  strongest  which  they  formed  in  regard 
to  his  character.  And  I  believe,  that,  with  all  of  us,  this  was 
at  the  basis  of  our  singular  confidence,  and  esteem  for  him. 
•After  this  discovery  was  made,  we  never  entertained  a  doubt 
of  his  perfect  sincerity.  We  never  so  much  as  thought  to 
question  the  purity  of  his  motives,  or  the  honesty  of  all  he 
said  and  did.  We  had  a  perpetual  and  sufficient  pledge,  that 
we  might  rely  upon  him.  Henceforth,  his  kindness  became 
doubly  precious.  We  were  sure  that  its  smile  did  not  shine 
upon  us  for  the  sake  of  the  reflection.     His  dignity,  too,  became 


276  LIFE    OF   HENRY  WARE,    JR. 

the  more  commanding  and  impressive.  We  saw  that  it  was 
not  assumed  for  effect. 

"  I  here  speak  particularly  of  kindness  and  digiiihj,  because 
these  two  words,  taken  together,  are  descriptive  of  Mr.  Ware's 
demeanor  towards  the  Students.  All  felt  the  one,  and  none 
ever  forgot  the  other.  He  was  easy  of  access  to  all,  yet  no 
one  ever  ventured  upon  familiarity.  We  were  not  denied  his 
sympathy, — we  could  not  withhold  from  him  our  respect. 

"As  a  Teacher,  Mr.  Ware's  principal  aim  seemed  to  be, 
not  so  much  to  impart  knowledge,  as  to  provoke  and  elicit 
thought.  He  did  not  present  truth  in  direct  statements, 
embodying  the  result  of  his  own  study  and  reflection,  to  be 
received  into  the  mind  of  his  pupil ;  but,  by  means  of  saga- 
cious questions,  led  along  the  intellect,  by  a  gradual  process, 
towards  the  result  at  which  he  wished  it  .o  arrive  ;  so  that  the 
thought  or  principle  appeared  to  be  rather  drawn  out  from  the 
reason  or  judgment  of  the  scholar,  than  imparted  from  his  own. 
The  conversational  method  of  instruction  was  his  usual  and 
most  successful  one.  For  this,  he  was  in  a  rare  degree  quali- 
fied. To  clearness  of  thought  and  simplicity  of  diction,  he 
united  patience  and  condescension,  a  quick  perception  of  the 
meaning  of  others,  and  a  habit  of  kindling  in  the  contact  of 
mind  with  mind.  I  have  often  wondered,  in  his  recitation- 
room,  at  his  long-suffering  towards  the  slow-minded;  at  the 
faciUty  with  which  he  adapted  himself  to  the  humblest  capac- 
ity ;  and,  at  the  amount  of  good  and  valuable  thoughts,  which 
he  was  sometimes  enabled  in  this  way  to  draw  out  of  those, 
from  whom  a  teacher  of  less  forbearance  and  wisdom  would 
have  expected  and  obtained  comparatively  little.  The  debt, 
which  minds  of  this  class  owe  to  him,  is  beyond  all  estimate. 

"  i\Ir.  Ware  v/as  accustomed  to  visit  the  Students  occasion- 
ally in  their  rooms,  that  he  might  converse  with  them,  in  pri- 
vate and  confidentially,  upon  matters  relating  to  their  theologi- 
cal studies  and  their  moral  culture.  If  it  appeared  to  him  that 
any  one   particularly  needed  his  advice,  I  believe  he  never 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  277 

neglected  to  seek  an  opportunity  to  give  it ;  thougli  there  was 
nothing  approaching  to  obtrusiveness  or  officiousness  in  his 
manner  of  rendering  this  vahiable  service.  He  manifested 
remarkable  skilfulness  and  wisdom  in  selecting  both  the  time 
and  the  mode  of  friendly  counsel.  He  used  great  plainness  of 
speech,  softened  by  kindness,  in  indicating  to  individuals  their 
defects,  for  which  he  was  always  furnished  with  remedial  sug- 
gestions. This  quickness  of  discernment  in  detecting  our 
faults,  whether  of  character,  or  of  intellectual  habits,  or  of 
style  in  the  composition  or  delivery  of  sermons,  was  equalled 
by  his  happy  faculty  of  making  them  evident  to  us  without 
giving  offence,  and  his  rare  capacity  of  pointing  out  the  exact 
method  of  their  correction.  So  useful  were  his  critical  hints, 
that  I  am  sure  the  only  desire  of  every  pupil  was,  that  they 
might  be  more  frequently  applied. 

"  For  the  special  branches  of  Theological  study  in  which  he 
was  appointed  to  give  instruction,  Mr.  Ware  was  eminently 
quaUfied,  both  by  experience  and  taste.  His  own  style  of  elo- 
quence was  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  pulpit  and  its  sacred 
themes.  Its  characteristics  were  simplicity,  gravity,  impres- 
siveness,  and  earnestness.  His  idea  of  preaching  was  the 
truest  and  highest.  He  communicated  it  clearly  and  forcibly. 
He  illustrated  it  well  in  his  own  practice.  We  felt,  that  in 
this  great  art  we  had  in  him  a  master.  And  the  same  is  true 
of  the  other  department  of  his  Professorship.  It  was  the  uni- 
versal conviction  of  the  Students,  that  no  more  competent 
guide  to  the  thorough  understanding  and  successful  discharge 
of  the  important  offices  of  the  Pastoral  Care  could  have  been 
found.  If  any,  who  have  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  his  ample  and 
minute  directions,  have  failed  in  this  sphere  of  the  duties  of 
their  calling,  the  deficiency  can  never  be  attributed  in  any 
degree  to  their  instruction  in  the  School ;  whilst  those  who 
have  succeeded,  will  gratefully  acknowledge  their  many  obli- 
gations to  him,  who  so  well  knew  what  the  secrets  of  pastoral 
influence  are,  and  how  to  teach  them. 

VOL.  II.  24 


278 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 


"  Mr.  Ware's  moral  and  religious  influence  upon  the  School 
was  very  great.  Perhaps  the  most  valuable  effect  of  his  con- 
nexion with  the  Students  was  here.  He  raised  the  standard 
of  ministerial  character,  the  tone  of  religious  sentiment.  His 
own  had  been  formed  and  imbibed  in  the  school  of  Christ;  and, 
as  from  his  Master,  a  Christian  virtue  went  out  of  him  to  his 
disciples,  as  he  went  about  doing  good  before  and  among  them, 
or  sat  down  to  teach.  He  not  only  imparted  the  instructions 
of  sacred  wisdom  and  truth,  but  communicated,  even  involun- 
tarily, the  inspiration  of  the  true  life.  His  best  pupils  may 
show  the  effect  of  his  discipline  in  the  manner  and  matter  of 
their  pulpit  discourses,  and  exhibit  the  benefit  of  his  lessons 
in  their  plans  of  pastoral  usefulness  ;  but  it  is  in  the  deep 
places  of  their  moral  and  spiritual  energy,  that  they  feel  his 
most  salutary  influence  ;  it  is  upon  the  character  of  their  own 
souls,  that  he  has  left  the  deepest  impression." 

The  following  paragraphs  are  contained  in  a  letter, 
which  I  have  already  quoted,  from  the  Rev.  John  H. 
Morison. 

"  In  the  autumn  of  1S31,  I  occupied  a  room  in  his  house, 
and  was  his  son  John's  instructor.  While  I  was  in  this  situ- 
ation, his  little  son  Robert  died.  Soon  after  the  death  of  his 
child,  that  same  evening,  he  came  into  my  room,  and,  with 
feelings  deeply  touched,  but  perfectly  calm,  talked  of  his  child 
and  of  death  in  so  sweet  a  spirit,  that  it  gave  to  the  whole  sub- 
ject a  new  meaning,  clothing  the  gauntness  of  death  with  the 
beauty  of  an  angel.  At  the  close  of  the  evening  the  family 
were  called  as  usual  to  prayers  ;  and  as  the  v/ords,  at  first 
of  broken,  humble  supplication,  rose  into  strains  of  subhms 
devotion,  the  world  and  its  trials  were  left  behind,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  the  tears  and  sobs,  with  which  the  service  began, 
had  been  changed  into  a  song  of  triumph. 


LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR.  279 

"  Indeed,  your  brother's  devotional  powers  always  appeared 
to  me  his  peculiar  gift,  the  spontaneous  outpouring  of  his  soul, 
when  all  his  faculties  were  most  alive.  The  language  was  so 
simple,  the  spirit  so  humble,  and  yet  borne  up  as  by  a  march 
so  majestic  and  sublime  !  I  remember  him  particularly  in  the 
exercises  at  the  College  Chapel  once,  on  the  morning  of  the 
22d  of  February.  The  sound  of  the  distant  guns  told  us  of  the 
day  ;  and  the  prayer,  more  than  any  eulogy  that  I  ever  heard, 
filled  the  heart  Avith  gratitude  and  praise.  So  once  at  Divinity 
Hall,  at  the  time  of  prayer,  there  was  a  sudden  and  severe 
shower  with  heavy  peals  of  thunder ;  and  the  voice  of  devo- 
tion, harmonizing  with  the  solemn  grandeur  of  the  scene, 
seemed  mightier  far,  in  its  quiet,  inspiring  tones,  than  the 
voice  and  darkness  of  the  storm.  Prayer  was  not  a  regular 
part  of  the  service  when  he  gave  his  lectures  on  the  Pastoral 
Office.  The  lectures  themselves  were  miscellaneous  in  their 
character,  the  same  discourse  treating,  perhaps,  of  unwise  mar- 
riages, of  economy  in  the  use  of  money,  and  of  the  highest 
duties  of  the  profession.  And  usually  the  progress  of  feeling 
was  such,  that  at  the  close  of  the  lecture,  without  a  word,  but 
as  by  an  involuntary  motion,  we  all  rose  in  prayer,  and  went 
away,  I  believe,  most  of  us,  to  meditate  and  pray. 

"  I  was  connected  with  the  Divinity  School  less  than  a 
year,  being  struclc  down  by  violent  sickness  before  I  had 
entered  upon  the  year  (the  last)  when  I  should  have  been 
most  in  your  brother's  department.  My  impression  is,  that 
his  instructions  were  not  at  all  systematic,  but  rather  desultory, 
embracing,  as  they  must  have  done,  a  wide  variety  of  topics, 
and  often  deranged  by  his  feeble  health.  They  were  of  great 
value,  both  on  account  of  their  sound  practical  wisdom,  and  of 
the  information  they  conveyed.  But  beyond  any  direct 
instruction  possible,  he  was  useful  in  the  School  as  a  sort  of 
better  genius,  to  whom  we  might  have  access  at  all  times,  and 
from  whom,  without  any  intentional  action  on  his  part,  a  purer 
influence  came.     We  could  go  to  him  in  perfect  confidence ; 


280  LIFE    OF   HENRY   WARE,    JR. 

and  the  amount  of  labor  thus  brought  upon  him  must  have 
been  exceedingly  exhausting.  We  were  sure  to  find  the 
greatest  kindness  and  the  most  perfect  truthfulness.  How- 
ever he  might  feel  for  us,  he  could  not  spare  our  faults." 


APPENDIX. 


(A.) 

The  body  was  examined  the  day  after  his  death,  by  Dr.  "Whitney,  his 
attending  physician,  and  my  friend,  Dr.  J,  B.  S.  Jackson.  There  were 
evidences  of  long-continued  and  various  disease.  The  lungs,  contrary 
to  expectation,  were  comparatively  healthy,  and  seemed  to  have  recov- 
ered almost  perfectly  from  the  attacks  under  which  he  had  suffered. 
There  were  only  the  slight  remains  of  tubercular  disease  in  one  of 
them.  There  was  some  enlargement  of  the  heart.  The  immediate 
occasion  of  death  was  in  the  brain ;  and  the  sufferings  of  the  last  two 
years  had  probably  been  chiefly  caused  by  a  disease  of  this  organ, 
known  under  the  name  of  ''  Softening,"  or  "  RamoUissement,^^  accompa- 
nied by  a  change  in  the  texture  of  the  arteries.  This  had  terminated, 
as  it  usually  does,  in  successive  effusions  of  blood  into  the  substance 
of  the  part,  the  last  of  which  had  destroyed  life.  There  was  also  a  dis- 
eased structure  of  the  kidneys,  known  to  physicians  by  the  name  of 
"Bright's  Disease,"  or  '^Granulated  Kidney,"  which  had  probably 
preceded  even  the  affection  of  the  brain. 

(B.) 
CATALOGUE  OF  PUBLISHED  WRITINGS. 

1811. 

An  Essay  in   "The  Weekly  Messenger,"   instituting  a  comparison 
between  Homer  and  Walter  Scott.     (Signed  Charles.) 

1812. 

A  few  fragments  of  Poetry  in  "  The  Constitutionalist,"  a  newspaper,  at 
Exeter,  N.  H. 
VOL.  II.  24=^ 


282 


APPENDIX. 


1S15. 

A  Poem  on  occasion  of  the  Peace. 

1817. 
Sermon  on  the  Death  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Prentiss. 


1819. 

Christian  Disciple.     Vol.  I.     Neiv  Series. 


Character  of  Thomas  Emlyn, 

Hymn  for  Easter, 

Review  of  Cappe's  Discourses, 

On  the  Love  of  the  World,    . 

Meekness, 


Lines  to  a  Child  going  a  Voyage, 
Review  of  H.  More's  jMoral  Sketches, 

«  Affection's  Gift, 

"  Daniel  Huntington's  Poem, 

Address  of  the  Editors, 


Page 

26 

38 

39 

287 

290 

432 

457 

459 

470 

473 

486 


1820. 


Christian  Disciple.     Vol.  II. 

Life  and  Character  of  the  Rev.  J.  E.  Abbot, 

Locke  and  Newton, 

Review  of  AVinstanley's  Vindication, 

"  IMy  Friend's  Family,  .... 

Mode  of  opposing  Liberal  Christianity,  exemplified. 
Review  of  Colman's  Sermons,      .... 

"  Sunday  School,  or  Village  Sketches, 

"Watts  on  the  Trinity, 

Taylor's  Books  for  the  Young, 

Landing  of  the  Fathers,        .        .        •        .        . 


32 

52 

54 

55 

181 

385 

460 

461 

472 

475 


Sermon  before  the  Evangelical  3Iissionary  Society  in  Blass.,  June  7. 
Two  Letters  to  Dr.  McLeod,  on  1  John  v.  7.— (Two  Editions.) 


APPENDIX.  283 

1821. 

Christian  Disciple.     Vol.  Ill, 

Page 

Dr.  Mayhew's  AVorks, 45 

Dedication  at  New  York,  and  N.  Y.  Collection  of  Hymns,   76 

Various  Notices, 158,  159,  160 

Dr.  Watts, 190 

.      202 

235 

.      321 

329 


Keview  of  W.  J.  Fox's  Sermon  on  Deism 

Notices  of  New  Publications,     . 

Notice  of  Spurious  Editions  of  Griesbach 

Use  of  Solitude  to  the  Christian, 

Review  of  Moore's  Ordination  Sermon,         .         .        .      377 

Notices  of  New  Publications, 399 

On  Discontent, 407 

Two  Historical  Discourses,  on  completing  a  Century. 

Christian  Register. 

Mr.  Wayland's  Ordination.    Aug.  31.         (Signed  Artiniits.) 

Foster's  Sermons.     Sept.  7 

Percival's  Poems.     Sept.  14. 

Mr.  "Woodbridge's  Defamation.     Sept.  14. 

Mr.  Lowell's  Historical  Discourse.     Sept.  21. 

Ordination  at  Wareham.     Oct.  12. 

Newspaper  Criticisms  of  Pulpit  Services.     Oct.  19 

Same  subject.    Nov.  9. 


1822. 

Three  Important  Questions  Answered.    January. 
Sermon  at  Amljerst,  N.  H.     August. 

Christian  Disciple.     Vol.  IV. 

Review  of  Oilman's  Sermon, 33 

"           Clerical  Discipline, 103 

"           Flint's  Historical  Discourses,    .        .        .  121 

Domestic  Missions, 169 

Keview  of  A  New  England  Tale,       ....  205 

Unitarian  Defendant, 219 


284  APPENDIX. 

Page 
Sacred  Poetry  and  Sacred  Music,      ....  281 

Keview  of  Catechisms, 291 

"  Life  of  Thomas  Scott,      ....  369 


Christian  Register. 

Mr.  Torrey's  Forefathers  Sermon.    April  5. 

1823. 

Address  before  the  Massachusetts  Society  for  the  Suppression  of 

Intemperance.    May. 
Letters  to  McLeod.     3d  Edition. 
Three  Important  Questions  Answered.    3d  Edition. 
Keport  of  the  Massachusetts  Bible  Society. 

Christian  Disciple.     Vol.  V. 

Review  of  Little's  Sermons,      •        .        .        .        .  49 

«           Deacon  Holmes's  Letter,      ....  54 

«           Percival's  Prometheus,     ....  129 

Improper  Views  in  Preaching.     (Translated.)       .        .  348 

Popular  Style  in  Preaching,                  "     .        .        .  427 

1824. 

Hints  on  Extemporaneous  Preaching.     Jan.  5. 
Recollections  of  Jotham  Anderson— Collected  and  published. 
S.  T.  B.  T.,  in  the  Newspapers,  &:c.  &c.    February. 
The  Vision  of  Liberty ;  a  Poem  recited  before  the  Society  of 
tp  B  K.    August  26.  * 

North  American  Review. , 

Notice  of  Cowper's  Private  Correspondence. 

Christian  Examiner. 

Causes  of  Lukewarmness  in  Christians,    ...  13 

Cursory  Thoughts  on  the  State  of  the  World,       .        .      341 


APPENDIX.  285 

Page 
Review  of  Willard's  Regular  Hymns,       .        .        .  224 

Sermons  on  the  Atonement, 367 

1S25. 

Sermon  at  the  Ordination  of  W.  H.  Furness,  at  Philadelphia. 
Jan.  12. 

Recollections  of  Jotham  Anderson,    xix.  xxi. 

Robert  Fowle.    IMarch. 

Sermons  on  the  Offices  and  Character  of  Jesus  Christ.    May  25. 

The  Faith  once  delivered  to  the  Saints.— A  Tract  for  the  Ameri- 
can Unitarian  Association.     September. 

Sermon  at  the  Dedication,  Northampton.     Dec.  7. 

Christian  Examiiier. 

Eminent  Philanthropists,  .        .  ...  18 

Memoir  of  Goodier, 329 

Review  of  the  Duties  and  Consolations  of  Mourning,        194 

«  Palfrey's  Sermon, 278 

«  Hillhouse's  Hadad, 301 

"  Turner's  Sermons, 386 

"  R.  Wright's  Missionary  Life. 

"  Wheeler's  Sermon  on  Slavery. 

Poetry.— To  the  Ursa  Major, 300 

Thanksgiving  Hymn. 

Review  of  Hadad,  in  the  Literary  Gazette. 

1S26. 

January.— Review  of  Greenwood's  and  Wayland's  Sermons,  in  the  Jour- 
nal of  Education. 
"  Milton's  Christian  Doctrine,  in  the  Literary  Ga- 

zette. 
"  Percival's  <t>  B  K  Poem,  in  the  N.  A.  Eevierv. 

"  Poems  from  the  Literary  Gazette,  in  the  Christian 

Register. 
Four  Notices  of  Milton,  in  the  Christian  Register.     (Signed 

LiMXOT.) 

Editorial  Article  on  Family  Prayer,  and  on  Modern  Degen- 
eracy. 
February.— The  Faith  once  delivered  to  the  Saints.    2d  Edition. 


286  APPENDIX. 

1827. 


Sernion  on  Small  Sins. 


1828. 


Notice  of  Judge  Howe,  in  the  Christian  Visitant. 

Letter  to  a  Sister,  "  " 

Note  to  the  Editor  of  the  (N.  Y.)  Unitarian.     (Signed  H.) 

Brief  Letter  on  Pollok's  Course  of  Time,  in  the  Christian  Register. 

Keview  of  Remains  of  N,  A.  Haven,  in  the  Christian  Examiner. 

Sermon  on  the  Duty  of  Usefulness,  in  the  Liberal  Preacher. 

Reply  to  a  Gentleman's  Letter.     (Four  Editions.) 

Address  before  the  Kennebunk  Unitarian  Association. 

Recollections  of  Jotham  Anderson.     2d  Edition. 

1829.     1830.     1831. 

The  Formation  of  the  Christian  Character.     May,  1831. 
Sermon  on  the  Duty  of  Improvement,  in  the  Liberal  Preacher. 
Farewell  Address  to  the  Second  Church.     Oct.  4,  1830. 
Introductory  Address  at  Cambridge.     Oct.  1830. 
Sermon,  in  Beard's  "  Family  Sermons/^  on  Religious  Principles  and  Af- 
fections. 
Account  of  R.  Hall,  in  the  Unitarian  Advocate.     1831. 
Preface  to  an  Album,  in  the  Unitarian  Advocate.     May. 

1832. 

Introduction  to  the  IMemoirs  of  Oberlin. 

Address  before  the  Cambridge  Temperance  Society.    March. 

Outline  of  Scripture  Testimony  of  the  Trinity. 

1833. 

Life  of  the  Saviour.     January. 

Sermon  at  the  Ordination  of  C.  Robbins.    December. 

Preface  to  Mrs.  Farrar's  Life  of  Howard. 

1834. 

Sermon  on  the  Promise  of  Universal  Peace. 
Life  and  Character  of  Dr.  Priestley. 
Sermon  on  Faith,  in  the  Western  Messenger. 


APPENDIX.  287 

1835. 

Memoir  of  Dr.  Parker. 

Annual  Address  delivered  before  the  Berry-Street  Conference,  in  the 

Christian  Examiner.     September. 
Sober  Thoughts  on  the  State  of  the  Times. 
A  Hint  from  JMrs.  H.  More,  in  the  Boston  Observer,    No.   2. 
A  Great  Scheme,  "  No.   4. 

A  Word  about  a  Hint,  «  No.  13. 

1837. 

Sermon  at  the  Ordination  of  C.  A.  Bartol.    MarcTi  1. 

The  Feast  of  Tabernacles.    March. 

Review  of  Mu2zey's  Young  Man's  Friend,  in  the  Christian  Examiner, 

May. 
Notice  of  Mr.  Norton's  "  Evidences,"  in  the  Christian  Register.    April. 
Two  Discourses  at  the  Close  of  the  Academic  Year. 
Tract  for  the  American  Unitarian  Association.    On  Faith.    No.  125. 
Keview  i)i  Miriam,  in  the  N.  A.  Review. 

1838. 

Review  of  Beard's  Collection  of  Hymns,  in  the  Christian  Examiner^ 
''  Stephens's  Incidents  of  Travel,  " 

"  Todd  and  Muzzey  on  Sunday  Schools,  " 

Sermon  on  the  Duel  in  which  Cilley  was  killed. 
"  before  the  Book  and  Pamphlet  Society. 
''       on  the  Personality  of  the  Deity. 

Notice  of  Mrs.  Sanford  and  of  AVinslow,  on  "Woman ;  in  the  JV.  A. 
Review. 

Review  of  the  Christian  Preacher,  in  the  Christian  Examiner. 

1839. 

How  to  spend  a  Day.        Mo?ithhj  Miscellany. 

Art  of  Hearing.  " 

David  Ellington's  Subscription.    " 

Review  of  Southey's  Poems,  in  the  N.  A.  Review. 

«  Milnes's  Poems,  " 

Notice  of  Lamson's  Centennial  Discourses,  in  the  N.  A.  Review. 

"  The  Huguenots,  « 

Sermon  at  Ordination  of  R.  C.  Waterston. 
Notice  of  Buckminster,  in  the  Monlhhj  Miscellany. 


288  APPENDIX. 

1S40. 

Sermon  at  Ordination  of  E.  H.  Sears,  Lancaster. 

Tract  for  the  American  Unitarian  Association.  The  New  Year. 
No.  150. 

How  are  the  great  Evils  in  the  "World  to  be  removed  ?  Monthly  Mis- 
cellany. 

Saturday  Evening  at  David  Ellington's.     Monthly  Miscellany. 

A  Sunday's  Walk  with  David  Ellington.  " 


1841. 

Sei-mon  on  the  Moral  Principle  of  the  Temperance  Movements,  in  the 
Christian  Examiner, 

1843. 

Progress  of  Peace  Principles,  in  the  Christian  Examiner. 
Review  of  Dr.  Greenwood's  Sermons  of  Consolation,  in  the  Christian 
Examiner, 

1844. 

Memoirs  of  the  Rev.  Noah  Worcester,  D.  D.,  with  a  Preface,  Notes,  and 
a  concluding  Chapter,  by  Samuel  "Worcester. 


THE     END, 


ros^-^ 


c^^. 


.«:t '/   C<J(r:'<Z::«f(:- 


mm  c®rc:cff  €iic-^K<^^«^-^ 


c.  ^  ^ayxfec<v.  €^  c.ic<  ^  ^:^::.^^  ^^mr 


'sc^^nKr 


'^'^CSTc 


<_«S-«8i7c:r^ 


<:!'•  ^ 


=3k:.v<^  c^ 


^^^^^ 


^M'*^^ 


^^X.^  ^ 


V^.^Cc«, 


^ex  S^^-  ^^  ?      :5^:„«:-r<r^ii^ 


^gM 


